The Copy Boy
by RL Seward
Summary: Golden Age. This is an early forties story about the new copy boy for the Planet. Did I mention that he is Asian American? Superman first appears in Chapter Three.
1. Monday

It was a wet winter's day as a teenager approached _The_ _Daily Planet._ From across the street of the main entrance, the young man craned his neck upwards, trying to see the famous globe, as if he were a tourist in the city for the first time, instead of a native son, who had never been in this part of the city. A fleck of snow fell into his eye, forcing him to lower his head just in time to see a middle aged woman slip on some ice and fell headlong in front of an onrushing taxi. Without thinking, the boy jumped into the street, scooped the woman up around her waist and pulled her back to the curb. As he was pulling her to safety, the taxi's bumper clipped the woman's leg. She screamed, collapsing onto the sidewalk.

People gathered as someone yelled, "Get an ambulance." Suddenly there was the cry of "Margaret!" A white haired middle aged man rushed to her side.

"Perry! My leg. I think it's broken." she cried.

"Is someone getting an ambulance?" he shouted. The police arrived a few minutes later as did the ambulance. As the woman was being loaded into the ambulance, the older man turned and faced the boy. "I saw you save my wife's life from across the street. Thank you! Kent!" he called out to a tall husky man with glasses. The husband pulled out a five dollar bill. "Take this young man out to lunch. I want to talk with him when I get back."

"That's not necessary, sir. I really don't have the time. I was about to go into the _Planet_ and apply for a job..." he started.

"A job! Have you ever worked for a paper?" the man asked just as the first door of the ambulance is closed.

"I was a copy boy and photographer for _The_ _Chinatown Gazette_," the youth answered quickly as the older man started getting into the ambulance.

"Kent, take this kid to personnel and get him assigned to the day shift as a copy boy, Olsen's wage," the older man said as the ambulance door closed.

As the ambulance pulled away. the youth asked Kent, "Is he the boss of the _Planet_?"

"That is the Editor-In-Chief of _The Daily Planet_, Perry White," he turned to the youth and offered his hand. "Clark Kent."

"Paul Bell," the youth answered shaking Kent's hand. "So, what should we do now?"

"Well, the Chief told me to feed you and to get you signed up, so let's step around the corner to a nice little burger joint that a lot of _Planet_ staff frequent and we will go from there," Kent said.

As they sat at a table, a middle-aged waitress came up and took their order and said offhandedly as she filled their coffee mugs, "Who is your Turkish friend?"

"Dahlia, this is Paul Bell. He is a new copy boy at the _Planet. _I am not sure about him being Turkish," Kent said. "This is Dahlia."

"Oh sure he's Turkish. Hello, Paul I am glad to meet you," she said, nodding to the wall behind her.

Kent grimaced. He glanced at the Whites Only sign. Several people were glancing their way, but no one said anything. "Sorry. I almost never see those."

"Apparently she doesn't have a problem with "Turks." Paul said. "Enough about me. How long have you been with the _Planet_? Wait a minute! Clark Kent. I've read some of your work. You're good, really good. My last editor in chief was really impressed with a lot of your stories."

"Thanks, Paul. I've been with the _Planet_ just over three years, now. I was born in Cleveland and was adopted by a Kansas farm family when I was a baby," Kent answered.

"I'm Metropolitan born and raised," Paul said. Dahlia came and filled their mugs and she smiled at them and left.

After lunch, Kent and Bell went to the _Planet_. Kent took the new hire up to personnel and gave them White's message. While there, Kent suggested that he be given a press badge. The staff in personnel assumed that was part of White's instruction and gave one to Bell.

As soon as he was punched in, Paul asked, "Why the press pass?"

"I heard you say that you used to be a photographer. That means that you will be looking for a chance to be one here. It is just saving a little time," Kent answered.

Kent then took him to the newsroom and introduced Bell to Assistant Editor Lawley. "Let me know how you are doing in a couple of days, Paul. I have to get back to my story." Kent left the busy room.

Lawley, a short, slightly overweight, bald man with a huge cigar in his mouth looked Bell over. "So Perry hired you, eh? Fine! You ever work for a paper?"he asked.

"Yes sir. I was both a copy boy and a photographer for _The Chinatown Gazette_," Paul answered.

Someone brought a document for Lawley's attention. Paul stood quietly while Lawley looked the document over. To the person who brought the paper he said, "Tell Ainsley that this is fine," and he hands the paper back.

"_Chinatown Gazette_, huh? Not a bad community paper. I saw a copy, from time to time. Any truth to the arson rumor? I heard that some tong racketeers torched the place?" Lawley asked

"It was only a matter of time before that old boiler blew," Paul answered.

"Good. Don't get me wrong! I'm sorry the place burned. I just have a deep seated hatred for racketeers. Back to task." He put out his cigar in a nearby ashtray. "Walk with me," he commanded.

They walk through a crowded newsroom, the sounds of telephones ringing, typewriters and teletype machines competing to make the most noise. A haze of tobacco permeated the air. "How big was your daily print?" Lawley asked.

"Seventy-five hundred," Bell answered.

"We print eight hundred thousand copies twice a day. It is a lot more intense here than what you are used to but the basic principles are the same, just at a significantly larger scale. You already know what a deadline is. Work hard and work as fast as you can. Olsen! over here!" Lawley called out to a freckled red haired youth about Paul's age.

"Jimmy Olsen, Paul Bell. Bell is a new copy boy. Your job is to work with him for the rest of the day and tomorrow and show him the ropes, Got it?"

"Yes sir," Jimmy said.

Turning to Bell, Lawley. said, "Olsen know what he is doing. Listen to him and you should be fine. Now get to work."

Bell spent the rest of the day helping Jimmy run errands, taking articles from one person to another in order to get the evening edition out on time. There was a bit of shift overlap. Once the evening edition was put to bed, the day shift started to help the swing shift put out the morning edition until it was time for the day shift to go home.

When he got off work he was tired, but happy. He went to the subway station to see what connections he'd have to make to get home. It took him almost an hour to get there. The last connection took him within two blocks of his house, a modest three bedroom with a tiny yard.

His mother had some stew on the stove waiting for him. She was in the living room listening to Christmas music while she was crocheting. His father was sitting at the dining room table with his brother, helping him with homework. After Paul ate, he washed his bowl and spoon, put them away and went and sat next to his mother.

"So they put you to work, right away. That's definitely an answer to prayer," she said.

"Yeah. I'm making about fifty percent more than I was making at the _Gazette_, but I am working for it," he replied.

"Where's Beth?" he asked referring to his thirteen year old sister.

"She's at Mary's. She said that she'd be home by 8:30," his mother answered.

Nodding towards the table, he asked, "I suppose that he is nowhere near done?" One of the family rules was that there were to be no comedies or dramas on the radio until all of the homework was done.

"Doubt it. Besides, one of your magazines came in, today. I put it on your bed," she said.

"Great. Thanks," he went into his room, turned on the light and closed the door. The door had been open for the drift heat. He glanced over to the window. He couldn't see anything out of it even if he opened th curtain. The window had plastic covering it to block out the winter's cold. Habit mostly. On a summer night, they would have the window open with a fan in it to get some air moving.

He pulled the magazine off of his bed and sat. It was the latest _Doc Savage_ magazine. He curled up on he bed to relax and enjoy himself. About half an hour later, his mother knocked and opened the door poking her head into the room. "They're done," she said.

When Paul entered the room, he found that his brother had turned the radio to a hockey game. "Lux Theater at eight," Paul told his brother.

"Dad already called it," he replied.

His father came in with another bowl of stew. "Paul, Your mother tells me that you got on at the _Planet_. What's the story?"

Paul spent the next several minutes telling his parents about his day.

"I'm glad that you didn't hurt yourself. You did the right thing. I'm also glad that you didn't know who she was. That means that you did it for the right reasons," his father said.

When he told of the rescue, his mother's hand had gone to her breast. "It is hard to realize that you aren't the little boy that you used to be," she said. He walked over and threw one of his arms around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug.

Paul's father advised him to go to bed early and skip Orson Wells that night, at least until he got used to working at the _Planet_. He grumbled a little, but he knew that his dad was right. He set his alarm, and to his surprise, he found himself drifting off to sleep in short order.

**_Historical note:_**

_Superman first appeared in the comics, in 1938. Initially, he worked at the Daily Star before he got onto the Daily Planet. He was created in Cleveland Ohio by Jewish teens Jerome Siegel and Joseph Schuster. You know the rest of that story. _

_Since Metropolis is fictional, so is this Chinatown. The reasons for the differences in the Metropolis Chinatown and the real Chinatowns of the East coast of that time will be explained in future chapters.  
_


	2. Tuesday

As he sat in the subway train, Paul had enough time to read the morning edition of the _Planet _on his way to work. He saw the headlines of other papers being read by other passengers. Most front page articles were about the war in Europe. _The New York Times_. _The Gotham Sentinel_. _The Boston Globe_. _The Daily Star_. It didn't matter. Paul had a sneaking hunch that the U.S, couldn't avoid the war.

He caught up with Jimmy at the time clock. He was a decent guy who had been working for the _Planet_ part time since he had been fourteen. Jimmy had graduated high school at sixteen the previous May. That put him a year younger than Paul. With no money for college, Jimmy had been working with the goal of becoming a photographer. Paul didn't know what he wanted to do with his life, but it was obvious to him that Jimmy would be a journalist for the rest of his life.

The morning was hectic. Putting out a major paper like the _Planet_ twice a day took a lot of people. It was intense. It was exciting. It was hard work. It involved listening to people using language that his mother would be very unhappy with him using. It was loud. Paul loved it. Most of the staff didn't ask his name. They were too busy to care. Copy boy run this to the proofreaders, to the printers, to the editors. Bring me a certain story from a reporter. Lawley even sent him for some coffee,The first problem that he had occurred at lunch time. After buying their food at the _Planet's_ cafeteria, Paul and Jimmy sat at a table next to the Colored seating section. Midway through their meal two men approached Bell

"What do you think that you are doing? This is a White section," one of them said accusingly.

"I'm not Colored. Why would I sit in the Colored section," Paul said reasonably.

"Well you're no White man either," Sullivan growled. A couple of Negroes were snickering at Bell's back.

"What seems to be the problem?" a thunderous voice asked.

"This kid is sitting in a White section," one of them said.

"Murphy, you and Sullivan are always making too much noise about this stuff. I know that you Irish Catholics have been near the bottom rung of society for the last century, but are you two so insecure that you have to pick on anyone who has darker skin than you to feel better about yourselves?" Perry White asked.

"The law is the law," Sullivan said.

"Fine," White said disgustedly. Turning to Bell, he asked. "Kid, I didn't get your name, yesterday."

"Paul Bell, sir," he answered.

"I hate to ask, but what is your race?" White asked.

"I'm Asian American, sir," he answered

"Fine. from now on the half of the table that you're sitting on is designated seating for Asian Americans. The other side is still for Whites. Happy?" White asked sarcastically.

The two men muttered under their breath as they left.

"Olsen, Lawley told me that Bell is shadowing you today. Bring him by my office sometime this afternoon, when you have time. I want to speak with him," White said.

"Sure, Mr. White," Jimmy answered. White nodded his head and went to place his order.

"Wow, I hope that you are not in trouble," Jimmy said.

"I doubt it. He wouldn't have stood up for me if I were in trouble," Paul answered.

An hour later, an opportunity came for them to go to White's office. A filing cabinet needed to be taken to an office on the same floor. White must have told Lawley that he wanted to see Bell, because he told them to see White while they were up there.

When they arrived at the office, White was speaking with a woman that Bell hadn't met, yet. Kent was waiting in the wings. "Lois, it's a good idea, but you're going to need some help and here comes the person that I am hoping that can help you. Lois, meet Paul Bell, our new copy boy. Bell this is Lois Lane."

"Miss Lane? I've read your work. You're very good," Paul said as he and Jimmy entered the room. She smiled and nodded towards him

"Bell here, used to work for _The Chinatown Gazette_," White said.

"Oh really? Maybe you can help. How well do you know Chinatown?" she asked.

"I was born and raised there. I worked at the paper part-time from the time that I was fifteen until I graduated high school last May. I was full-time after that until the place burned down last week," he answered.

He could feel that his professional credibility had gone up a couple of notches with the adults. "What kind of story do you want to write and how can I help you?" he asked.

"I want to do a war related story about the real Chinatown. What real people feel and I don't mean just a 'Japs are bad' story. How do they really feel about the war, the United States, life?" she said.

Bell looked a little uncomfortable, " I can arrange to introduce you to some refugees."

Lois pressed, "But, there is a but here. I can hear it in your voice."

"But the real human interest story about Metropolis' Chinatown is that the population has increased by a factor of thirty since the Depression and most of the people are American born and raised and most of their parents are, too," Paul said quickly.

"What?" White said surprised. Kent and Lane both had surprised expressions on their faces as well.

"It is all tied in to William Pang," Bell said.

"The Negro Millionaire," "The Negro Edison," "The Negro Inventor," "The Negro Scientist," the other four said simultaneously.

"That's him. A lot of people don't realize is that he is half Chinese, too." Bell explained. "Mr. Pang was born in the Mississippi Delta in 1891. His mom 's father was a Presbyterian minister. His father was a Chinese laborer who wound up owning a restaurant."

Seeing that everyone was paying attention, Bell continued. "It all started after the Civil War. Some of the Southern Whites in northern Mississippi thought that it would be a good idea to have a Plan B in case the freed slaves refused to work for them, so what they did was to bring in a bunch of Chinese families to sharecrop. Well, it didn't take the Chinese long to figure out that was not a moneymaker. The Chinese were smart. They learned how to use segregation laws to their advantage. They started up businesses that catered exclusively to Negroes. I'm told that the there has never been any lynching type persecution of Chinese is the Deep South, by Whites or Negroes."

"I'm surprised the Chinese didn't have problems from the Negro business owners," White said.

"The story, as I understand it, is that the Negro businessmen there have a serious handicap. They are under a lot of pressure to help relatives who won't pay their debts. Since the Chinese are neither White nor Negro, they are far freer to offer credit to honest Negroes and to deny it to dishonist ones. Since Whites are socially prevented from taking most of the Negro business, most of the Negro market belongs to the Chinese Americans."

"How do you know that is accurate? I have never heard anything like that story" Lois asked.

"A couple of years ago, the _Gazette_ ran a history article on the Mississippi Chinese. All the Chinese Americans from the South liked it." Paul answered.

"When we had lunch yesterday, you said that no one ever guessed your race, accurately. what is your ancestry?" Kent asked.

"I am an Anglo-Burman or Anglo-Burmese American. I'll be surprised if any of you have heard of us," Paul said. Everyone shook their head. "I'm not surprised. Long story short is that there was a British trade community partly made up of my people in Hawaii when the United States annexed it. My people are a hybrid race. Part of my racial background is Asian and part of it comes from Europe. Most of us have British names, though some do have names from other European countries. We mostly speak English in our homes and most of us are Christians of one denomination or another. Anyway there were about a couple hundred or so of my people in Hawaii at the time. Since we spoke English and were involved in trade with the British Empire, Uncle Same let them stay. We are talking about my grandparents. My dad was born in the Islands the year after Uncle Sam got it, my mom three years later. They grew up there."

"Anyway, Mr. Pang grew up in a large family. His grandfather taught him to read when he was four. He is grandfather had been self educated and taught young William everything he could. He was a gifted student. His father taught him business. His grandfather got him a scholarship at a Negro university where he studied business and science. He started to invent things when he was a kid. Story that I'm told is that some companies stole a couple of his inventions when he was a kid, and he couldn't hire the lawyers to fight for the copyright."

"After he finished school, he started American PIE Games." Paul said.

"We know that he started that company, sold those board games and parlayed it into a fortune," Mr White said. "How does that tie into Chinatown?"

"Once he had the money from the royalties, he started to invent scientific things. Everyone know that he makes the best vacuum tubes, for example. I know that he has a government contract for that among other things. Now he can afford the best lawyers to protect his assets. Before the stock market fell in '29, Mr. Pang saw it coming and got most of his money out of the stock market and out of the banks. In 1930, he had millions in cash. Think about that," he said.

Everyone was quiet for a few seconds. Bell continued. "Remember his grandfather? Well those lessons about generosity paid off. Mr. Pang didn't do much in handouts, but he was into helping make it easier for people to make it. He bough a lot of dock property in Hobbs Bay for pennies on the dollar as well as Chinatown and Kensington, too," he said referring to a Negro section of Metropolis near Chinatown.

"He started his own works projects. He hired a lot of people to demolish old buildings and tenements. He did force some people to move, but he tried to help them find comparable priced housing. I heard that he hired some of them to work for him. In Chinatown and Kensington he had thousands of houses built. Sold them to his employees at cost plus ten percent. He hired a lot of Mississippi Chinese to come work for him in Metropolis in the factories that he built. A lot of others came from Mississippi looking for work, both Negro as well as Chinese. He built houses for his employees in Kensington, too. He also helped build churches and playgrounds and good schools and he has helped local people, not just Chinese or Negro either with small business advice and occasionally loans. He exemplifies Christian generosity. that's is why everyone respects him so. You think that would be of interest?" Bell asked.

"Absolutely, it would make a good feel-good story as well. Something that people in these times need to hear," Lois Lane said. "What do you think Mr. White?"

"Can you arrange some interviews with community leaders?" White asked.

"When are you wanting to do this?" Paul asked Lois.

"Tomorrow if possible," she replied.

"May I?" he said indicating the telephone. He dialed a number that he knew by heart. "Mrs. Peete, the is Paul Bell. Is Mr. Deng in? Mr. Deng. Paul Bell. Say, I got a job yesterday at _The Daily_ _Planet_. Yeah it's starting out okay. Say do you have some time tomorrow? One of the reporters wants to do a story about Chinatown. It would please the new bosses. Okay, hold on a second and I'll check," Bell looked at Lois. "Is 9:30 good for you at his office?

"Good for me," she said without hesitation.

"That's good for her. Okay, bye," Bell hung up. "You have an appointment."

"Who am I meeting?" she asked.

"My pastor, Mr. Deng. That's D-E-N-G. He knows a lot more of the kind of people that you will probably want to meet and he likes me." Bell answered.

"Perry, can I borrow him for tomorrow?" Lois asked.

"When you punch in, tomorrow, Bell, you will be her assistant for the day. I'll tell Lawley." White said.

"Yes sir," Bell replied.

"Oh Bell? Thanks for saving my wife's life."

_Historical Notes: The Chinese in Mississippi do exist. That part of the story is true. The Anglo-Burmese exist. Whether there were any in Hawaii as I described, I don't know but it is a plausible way that someone like PB's family could enter the United States during that era's anti-Asian laws. In that era, Anglo Burmese and the other hybrid ethnic groups of South Central Asia were very influential in the workings of government and industry in the European colonies of Asia._

_There was no mass migration of Mississippi Chinese to an East Coast city that I am aware of._

_The first gas mask used by fire departments was invented by an African American prior to World War One. Some cities would rather have their firemen do without rather than purchase them from a Black man._


	3. Wednesday

Bell arrived at the office that Lane shared with Kent, with his camera bag over his shoulder to see her sitting at a microfilm reader, a newspaper page on the screen. The door was open so he rapped lightly. "Morning," he said

She looked up and smiled. "Come in, Paul. Have a seat. I am looking over some things about Chinatown," she said.

Bell noticed that Lane was reading one of the old Chinatown Gazette articles on Chinatown. Obviously, the Daily Planet had a well developed morgue, not only of their own paper, but of others as well.

"Thirty one thousand thousand two hundred and three people in Chinatown according to the 1940 Census. Nineteen thousand, seven hundred and twenty people who speak English in the home of those of Chinese ancestry." Lane read for a few seconds and looked up again. "There are three thousand and fifty-nine Indians?"

"Um-hmm," Bell answered. "I know some of them. They came looking for work because of the Depression. I think that a lot of them like the idea that most of the community looks more or less like them. American Indians and Chinese don't look the same, but there are some similarities. There are a lot of Indians that have some White blood. I have been mistaken for an Indian from time to time. The Indians are mostly Eastern Indians. I don't think hardly any of them are from any farther west than Oklahoma. They are pretty close with their home reservations. Most of them make at least one trip a year back home."

"Isn't Lenape the tribe our state is named after?" Lane asked.

"Yes ma'am and there are some Lenape in Chinatown." he answered. "I've looked at those numbers. Bear in mind, people have moved in since the census. I know that there are quite a few Chinese American families that aren't from the South, but of the Chinese Americans, they are the minority. There are about eighty of my people in Chinatown. That counts wives and kids. Except for one family, all of the Anglo Burmese fathers came through Hawaii and work for Mr. Pang, my father included. Mr. Pang is big on selling his board games abroad. There are some Asian Indians. Not all of them, but most of them are refugees and they do stick to themselves. I think it is because most of them are Hindus or Sikhs and the parents don't want their kids to assimilate too much. That was my impression when I dealt with them in school. There are some American Gypsies that live there. Most of them tend to be transient. Almost everybody else is either a refugee or their American born kids. We have Asian refugees from a lot of different places that the Japs have attacked. Don't ask how they got her with the anti Asian laws."

"You went to school with the refugee kids? What were they like?"she asked.

"I went to school with some of them. If there is one trait that almost all Asians have in common is that education is highly valued. A lot of the Chinese Americans grew up with stories about their grandparents and great grandparents struggle with English and to actually see others going through it gets to some of the kids. A lot of kids try and help as much as possible, especially with the Chinese kids who don't speak English. American born kids of refugees are usually fluent in English after the first grade," Paul said.

"You know your stuff," Lane said.

"When you work for a paper that covers that stuff so extensively, it is hard not to know it. We better get going," he said, looking a the clock. As she put on her coat, Clark Kent entered the room with a disturbed expression on his face and sat at his desk.

"Something wrong, Mr. Kent?" Bell asked, concerned.

"It has to do with an expose that I'm working on. It is confidential so I can't tell you about it. Have a nice day, you two," he answered.

Lois and Bell went to the garage and got into her car. As they pulled onto the street, to make their way to Chinatown, traffic was heavy. It had not snowed last night and the temperature was about thirty degrees. Until they got out of downtown, it was bumper to bumper. While Lane concentrated on driving, Bell looked everywhere. "You are looking like the kid from the country and this is your first time in the city. I thought you were born in Metropolis." she said.

He looked abashed. "I was born here. I've not seen this part of the city from the street, before. Most of the time, I'm riding the subway or the bus. This is the first time that I've seen downtown from a car. It looks different than what I'm used to," he replied.

As they left downtown they started entering established ethnic neighborhoods. Irish, German, Jewish, Italian. "I wonder how that works, a Jewish neighborhood next to a German and an Italian neighborhood," Lois mused.

"I've never heard of any riots. Have you?" Paul commented.

"Good point," Lois replied.

As they headed passed the neighborhoods, they entered an industrial area. Entering the borough of Hobbs Bay, Lois noticed that she was low on gas.

"How much do you want?" Bell asked as soon as the car stopped at a gas station.

"Fill it, please," she answered.

He started to pump the gas when a man yelled, "Hey! what do you think you're doing? Can't your read! Whites Only!" A man came charging at Bell with a crowbar. Bell quickly steps between the island to get some distance. Lois starts to yell at the man but he ignored her. "Crazy Indians! This is a White's Only establishment!"

His diatribe was interrupted by Superman landing in front of him. Taking the crowbar Superman twisted it into a pretzel and tossed it onto the roof of the building. Superman glared at him, but the man didn't back down.

Bell went from nervous to amazed. Here was the Man of Tomorrow right in front of him, defending him! Lois Lane went up to Superman and started telling him what happened when he said that he saw it from the air.

"You do realize that attempted murder is against the law?" Superman said ominously.

"So's what he's doin' and no jury would convict me. So go ahead Mr. Law and Order! Call the police!" He walked around Superman and took the nozzle out of the car and looked at Lois. "That's thirty cents, Why a White Woman would associate with such trash is beyond me."

"Pay this...person Lois, before I lose my patience," Superman said disgustedly.

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"I have never seen anyone as bad as that guy." Bell said when they were on the road. "Restaurants are one thing, but my dad has never had trouble getting gas."

"That man would have brained you! Paul, I'm sorry. If I had thought something like that would happen..." she began.

"I didn't think about it either. Besides, it doesn't happen every day. Did you see the way Superman twisted that crowbar? That was just way too keen! I can not believe that I got to see that!" Paul said, excitedly.

"I've seen him do things like that for years. It never gets old." she replied. If he wanted to drop it, maybe she should, too.

"You know, you're not the kind of person that I thought you'd be," Paul blurted.

"What kind of person did you think I would be like?" Lois asked.

At this point, Paul felt that he had stuck his foot in it. He had been thinking about how Lois didn't match his preconceived notions. He normally wouldn't have said anything, but he was still full of adrenaline and he had said more than he had intended

After a moment's silence, Lois asked,"Well?"

"I don't know. I have read a lot of your stories and I always figured that you would have to be tough as, I don't know, Torchy Blaine, I guess," Paul answered.

"Torchy Blaine, huh?" she chuckled. "I used to be very much like Torchy Blaine, once. I'm still as tough as she is, but over the years, I have learned that being as tough as a man doesn't mean that I should act like one. I made that mistake when I started out. To be a good investigative reporter requires the ability to get people to talk to you, to confide in you. Men want to talk to women. They want to confide in them. That doesn't mean that I act like a tart. I would never do that. The trick is the ability to ask the right question the right way to get the information that you need. Investigative reporting is very psychological. Men do it one way and women do it another. Once I realized that is when my career took off."

Fifteen minutes later, they drove under a train bridge and entered another world. "Welcome to the Foreign Section of Metropolis," Paul Bell said. They drove past row upon row of tenement housing interspersed with factories and some small businesses, many with signs in both English and various other languages. Poverty was obviously everywhere here. Having just come out of the Depression, both of them were used to seeing extreme poverty.

"I wonder how these people get along?" Lois asked rhetorically.

"Not well. Most of these people have fled either Hitler or Stalin, but that doesn't make them friends. In fact, a lot of them are traditional enemies. Poles hate the Russians. Serbs and Croats hate each other. Greeks and the Armenians hate the Turks who hate them back. Loads of people with loads of Old World hatred. Oh, almost everyone here hates the Jews. The Jews that do get in, President Roosevelt won't let most of them in, live in the more established Jewish neighborhoods. It's safer. Take a left at the next block." Bell said

Several minutes later they enter another industrial area. As they got to the other side, Bell said, "Welcome to Chinatown."

Bell gave directions to his church. They parked in the church parking lot and approached the front door. Lois saw a Dedication Date written into a concrete slab by the door. Metropolis Chinatown Presbyterian Church Dedicated May 11, 1941. "This church building is new!" she said

"Yeah, it is. Right this way," Bell led her into the building. She could see that the sanctuary was through a set of swinging doors straight ahead. To the right was a set of stairs that went down to a lower level. "That leads to our fellowship hall, kitchen and Sunday School classrooms. This way." Just past the stairs was a closed office door with the blinds pulled. Bell rapped lightly on the window and opened the door. "Okay to come in?"

A woman's voice answered, "Oh Paul! Come in. Is this that reporter? I didn't know that there were lady reporters. Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I hope that I didn't offend you!" the woman behind was in her mid-thirties. What caught Lois off guard was that the secretary was an Oriental-Negro mix.

The other woman's apology gave Lois the time to compose herself. "There aren't a lot of women who are reporters so I can understand your surprise." Lois extended her hand. "Lois Lane."

The other woman looked surprised but took her hand. "Ruby Peete. Nice to meet you. Pastor Deng is in a meeting that is running a little late. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, thank you," Lois answered

"How do you like it"

"Cream, one sugar." Lois answered.

"I prefer sugar without cream," Bell said

"You, young man are too young to be drinking coffee," the woman said entering the next room. From the other room, they could hear her continuing on. "You kids think that you have to grow up so fast. My Leon is just like you. He is a year younger than you but he has got to rush and drink coffee and rush and get a part time job, after school." She came in and handed Lois a cup of coffee and she gave Paul a cup of hot chocolate. "When I was a girl, I had to grow up fast. I married just after I turned eighteen and had my Leon after I turned nineteen. Not that I regret marrying my Jonas, mind you, but you kids need to slow down and enjoy being kids!"

He took a sip. "I don't think that Hitler and Mussolini will let us do that," Paul said. By the look of her body language it was obvious that Paul had hit home. She was worried about just that. "Sorry," he said.

She waved it off. "God is in control right? Amos 3:6 and all that. right?" she was interrupted by the pastor's office door opening. Two parents and what looked to be a daughter in her late teens or early twenties came out of the office. They smiled and left the office.

Another man came out and introduced himself as Clifford Deng, the church's pastor. He was a friendly man in his late forties. who was very wiry, with a trace of cigar smoke about him. Lois had never heard an Oriental speak with a Southern accent, before. Intellectually, it made sense, but for whatever reason, it didn't feel right to her.

When they were seated in his office, he turned to Paul. "Paul, you didn't see anyone leave my office today, did you?"

"Nooo sirr" Paul started to say slowly. "Iiii just saw Mrs. Peete give me some hot chocolate and Miss Lane some coffee."

"Good, Everyone needs to speak with the minister from time to time. Most of the time, it is best if it is confidential, Right?" he encouraged agreement.

"Absolutely," Lois said.

"Yeah sure. I didn't see anything,"

That settled, Deng smiled and said, "How can I help you?"

Lois went on to describe the kind of story that she wanted to write. He listened. "It sounds like you are writing two different stories. One story is about war refugees. The other story is about the Asian American community in the "Foreign Section of Metropolis."

"You think that you could arrange some interesting interview for both stories?" she asked.

"Let me make a few phone calls. I have an idea. We have a potluck on the first Wednesday night of the month as well as the third Sunday after church. Why don't you dine with us tonight? You can see how American most of us are. Maybe our aspiring photographer can even get a shot or two," Deng suggested.

She thought for a moment, "Sure, why not?"

"Okay. I have another question that I want to ask Paul. Have you run into any serious racial trouble at work?" he asked.

Bell described the conflict in the cafeteria and the altercation at the gas station. His voice got really animated when he described the actions of Superman. Pastor Deng was more focused on something else.

"Do you understand why those Negroes were laughing at you?" he pressed.

"Because they were jerks?" Paul guessed.

"No. Those Negroes and those Irishmen were both in the grip of the same sin: envy. Envy is not covetousness. Covetousness is wanting what you can't have. Envy is destroying what the other person has because they can't have it. Those Negroes wanted to tear you down because they couldn't sit where you could sit. Those Irishmen were trying to tear you down because they are low in the racial pecking order of White society and by tearing you down, they think that it makes their status in life more secure. Envy is a greater temptation for a poor person than a rich person. Envy is a form of murder. As a minister, it is one of the regular sins that I have to point out. I want you to think about that and we will talk more about it, later. Now, if you and Miss Lane will wait in the office, I will make some phone calls."

"I do have one last question that I haven't had a chance to ask. Are there any Jap Americans in Chinatown. It might be interesting to interview them." Lois asked.

Pastor Deng looked away for a second. "Except for the kids in the orphanage, I haven't spoken to a Jap American since I was fifteen years old living in Memphis. That's where I grew up. I moved here in 1932. I don't know of any Jap Americans living in Metropolis other than some of the orphans."

There was a moment of silence before Paul spoke up. "Um Miss Lane. Can I talk to Pastor Deng for a moment please." Bell asked. They shared a glance and she left the room.

Bell felt awkward. His pastor was lying to him and he had to call him on it. Pastor Deng was shutting down He stared straight ahead. "How can I help you, Paul?" he asked innocently.

Bell held his breath for a second. "She is wondering why you lied to her. She is a first rate reporter. If I could see that you were not being completely honest, so could she. She will probe if she thinks there is a story in it, too."

Deng covered his eyes with his right hand. " You're right. She will. All right, tell her this. I know one person who is half Jap. This person is ashamed of it and has nothing to do with anyone that is Jap. This person would not want to be interviewed. Tell Miss Lane that I'll apologize tonight. Now I need to make some phone calls."

Bell went into the lobby and told Lois what Pastor Deng had said. "I think it is a woman. He was so careful not to mention gender," Bell said as a clang from the coffee room. The went in to see if Mrs. Peete was all right to find her staring at them, the color drained from her face.

"It's you, isn't it," Lois said softly.

After a second she nodded. After they cleaned the mess, Mrs. Peete locked the door to the office. She looked at Bell. and said softly. "Are you going to tell?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not even my parents," he said.

"No one picks their parents," Lois said.

"Tell me about it," she said bitterly. She sat at her desk. "My...mama, she wasn't the most moral woman. I guess you would call her a kept woman. I grew in Bronzetown. That's the Negro section of town nearest the Jap Consulate. My daddy was some kind of diplomat with the Consulate. When I was six, he went back to Japan and we never saw him again. Mama went from man to man after that. She died when I was twelve. Me and my three brothers finished growing up with our grandma. My two brothers just after me had the same daddy. My youngest brother had a Negro daddy, one of Mama's boyfriends. When I was sixteen a girlfriend got me to go to a church with her. After a few months I asked Jesus to save me from my sins. A few months after that, I met my Jonas. He said that since God had adopted me He was my daddy now, not some Jap who forgot about me years ago. About a month before I turned eighteen, Grandma died. We were sent to an orphanage. As soon as I turned eighteen I got out of there. It was a bad place," She started to sob. "Jonas married me, but he couldn't help my brothers. Three years later, the State let my two full brothers go into the navy together. They were twenty and seventeen at the time. My baby brother had to wait until he was twenty-one before they let him leave the orphanage. He couldn't join the navy when he was seventeen because of the Depression. He just drifts from job to job. He still lives in Bronzetown The other two are still in the navy. They all go from woman to woman just like their daddys."

"Miss Lane," she said. " I read the papers. I know folks are worried about sabotage. I don't know no Fifth Columnists."

Lois said, "I believe you," as Reverend Deng came out with the contact information for them.

The interviews went well. Lois called the paper and told White how it was going and that they would be attending the potluck tonight. When she hung up the phone, Paul asked, "What did he say?"

"He said to enjoy the potluck and to tell you that he didn't mind you getting out of a subway ride, but he was going to have you punched out at six. By then you should have some decent photos and that he is not paying you to eat," Lois answered.

On the way to the church, they drove past a small hospital. "That is new, too. Before Mr. Pang built it, everyone had to go to the city hospital in Kensington if they got sick. I was born at the city hospital."

When they returned to the church, it was a little after five o'clock. There was a small playground on the church property that several children were making use of. There was a streetlight to provide the lighting as it was already dark. The reflection off the dirty snow provided even more ambient lighting. They went to the fellowship hall where some older children were putting out place settings at the various tables. Delicious smells were coming from the kitchen along with the sounds of several women's voices.

"A lot of women bring the food here and cook it. Not everyone has cars and it is a lot safer than trying to carry a dish on a bus or an icy sidewalk," Paul explained. "There are also two stoves in the kitchen. That helps, too."

Over the next half hour Lois met a lot of the members of Paul's church. What surprised her was the normalcy of it all. It was like any potluck that she had ever gone to at her own church. She had almost gotten used to the Southern accdents of most of Chinatown. How Paul didn't have a Southern accent was beyond her. Pastor Deng came down shortly before food was being served. He indicated that he wanted to talk with them so they entered an unused classroom and he closed the door.

"I apologize for lying. I hope that you understand why. She told me that she told you. She is an excellent secretary. She works part-time so she can be home when her kids get out of school. She'd never help the Japs. She just doesn't want people to know. Since she is married, everyone assumes that her maiden name was Chinese and that is just the way she likes it," he explained.

"It will be kept in the strictest confidence," Lois said reassuringly. "So, she is not here?"

"No, she and her family live in Kensington. She attends a sister church there," he answered. "Let's eat."

Lois sat with Paul's family. She found the Bell family very gracious. "Is everyone in your church American born Chinese?" she asked.

"Except us? Nah. Some American Indians are also members. Other Anglo-Burmese and some Anglo-Indians come and a few others. There are even a couple of Asian Indian families that are Christian that come. Some of the Chinese refugees come and some refugees from other places come. See that guy over there?" Paul pointed to a man in his mid-twenties. "He is from French Indochina. His name is Thai Tran. He was a sailor on a French ship. When France fell to Germany, his ship was in Metropolis Harbor. Most of the ship's crew asked for Asylum. Since Japan has invaded his colony, he doesn't have anywhere to go. He lives with three or four of his former shipmates. I think that he is working as a janitor. Like I said, there are other refugees that come to church here too. Some more will be here before the night is over. This is the only home cooked meal that some of them get. Just a second, Hey Sonny!" he called out to an American Indian youth who had just walked into the room. "Had somebody else call me an Indian."

Sonny laughed and shook his head.

"Are you Miss Lane?" a boy of about twelve asked at her elbow.

"Yes."

"There is a phone call for you, a Mister White," he said.

As she stood, Paul rose, all business, and said, "I'll show you the nearest phone."

They made their way to the kitchen where the phone was off the hook. Lois could see that Paul wanted to listen in so she held the earpiece so they could both hear. "What's up Chief?" she asked.

"Is Bell with you?" he asked agitatedly

"Yes, sir," he answered.

"You said you were a photographer. Do you have your camera on you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir!"

"Lane, you and Bell get over to the Harbor Precinct House! You're the closest! I have it on good authority that Walter Lazenby is being arrested as we speak! Get a statement and if possible some photos. Got it!"

"Harbor Precinct House! Got it!," she said as the line went dead.

"You have film?" she asked.

"Absolutely!" He tapped his camera bag. "Let's grab our coats and go!" It took almost five minutes to for the window to be thawed enough to drive and almost half an hour to get across to the Harbor Precinct House. Bell pulled out his press badge an attached it to his coat.

"I'm glad Mr. Kent thought to give me this," he said.

"He did? Good. Don't ever tell him that I said this, but Clark does have his moments." Lane said "Here is the plan. Harbor doesn't have an enclosed parking lot like a lot of other stations, They have to bring him from across the street. Make sure the police can see your camera. That is key. Get the shot without interrupting the officers. That's how you start to make friends. If we are lucky we'll be first, but I don't expect us to be alone. Some of the other photographers and reporters will try and shove you around. You must not let them get you mad. If they can get to you they will do it forever. Here we are," she pulled into a parking spot. The got out of the car and walked up to the building. There were three steps to the door from the sidewalk.

They were the first there. They waited outside for almost ten minutes before the police car arrived. As soon as he had a view of the man in the back seat, Paul started shooting. He kept shooting until the police escorted the racketeer into the station all the while Lois was trying to get a statement. They followed the entourage of police into the station house. Paul kept shooting until they went passed a secured door.

"Now we wait for a statement," she said. After a while, other reporters started showing up. None were too happy that a girl had beaten them there with some Indian photographer. They started making racial comments towards him.

Bell went up to the desk sergeant. "Do you have a Colored restroom?" he asked

The sergeant pointed across the busy room. "Go to the end of the hall on the right."

"Thank you," He made his way to the sound of someone yelling. "Stay there!"

When he entered the restroom, he made sure it was empty. He changed out his film. hiding the precious roll in one of the paper towel dispensers. "Just in case," he said. He returned to the crowd. After a while someone says, "Hey I just learned that the _Planet_ photographer got pictures of the arrest!"

"Hey guys! Early bird gets the worm! Be sure and buy a copy of the _Planet_ tomorrow." Bell taunted.

"I don't think so," someone said behind him and that man grabbed for Bell's camera. A couple other reporters jumped in. Before the police could intervene, one of them ripped open the back of Bell's camera and pulled the film out. Dropping it to the floor he stomped on it to Bell's cries of outrage.

Four policemen intervened and separated them with threats to arrest them all if it happened again. The leader laughed in Bell's face and said. "All's fair in Love and Getting a Scoop!"

Lois came over and started to read the reporter the riot act to which he responded, "This is the Big Leagues, Sister," and walked away.

Still fuming, she asked if Paul was all right. "This is the Big Leagues," he said as he reloaded the film. "Let's get a statement."

Ten minutes later after listening to wisecracks from all of the other reporters, a police lieutenant came out with a statement. Bell took his picture as did all the other photographers. Lazenby the racketeer had been caught by using wiretapping to get the goods on him. He would be arraigned the next day at 10 AM on charges of racketeering, embezzlement and tax evasion.

A lot of the reporters rushed to the phone booths to call in the story. Lois was still disgusted. Paul knew he had to be careful. He wanted to burst out laughing but then the jig would be up. He had to look as angry as he could. He looked at Lois and said, "Why don't we call from somewhere else. I don't want to wait here till they get done."

"Why not. We didn't get anything that good anyway," she said dejectedly.

"You go warm up the car. I am going to step into the restroom," he said. She looked at him a little funny as if to say, didn't you just go? but she nodded and went outside.

As he turned, the photographer who smashed the film, came up to him and said,"Don't take it personal kid. Call it your baptism by fire. Name's Sloane. Gavin Sloane. _Gotham Sentinel_. We have been waiting for Lazenby to slip up for a long time, now. Once you earn your stripes, you'll learn how to keep your pictures. What's your name, kid?"

"Bell. Paul Bell."

"Well, Bell. Better luck next time," Sloane said and walked away.

Bell made his way to the restroom and used it. After drying his hands, he retrieved the film and slipped it into his pocket. He slapped the back of his hand five or six times to help wipe the smile off his face. He started thinking as many negative thoughts as he could. He knew that would help him get out he door. He kept his head down until he was on the sidewalk. He almost got to Lane's car when he heard Sloane shout, "BELL!"

Bell jumped into the passenger seat and yelled, "Step on it!" as he quickly locked the door.

Lois Lane, a veteran of many a high speed chase, put the car in gear and backed onto the street. she put the transmission in first gear as Sloane tried to open her door. She let out the clutch and started forward. Sloane lost his grip on the door handle and fell into the street. she stopped at the corner and looked over her shoulder. Three or four reporters were in the street and Sloane was on his feet gesturing angrily. She kept going.

"What was that about," she asked as they started toward the _Daily Planet_.

"Oh, I think that Mr. Sloane of the _Gotham Sentinel_ just realized that he failed in his attempt to destroy my photos," Bell said casually with the biggest Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

"What!" she shouted. After he explained what happened they were both laughing. 'How did you know to do that," she asked.

"I saw it happen to somebody else, once" he replied.

Lois took a detour of a couple of blocks and found a pay phone and called White and told him that they might have pictures. The slight detour was necessary. Lois could envision the other reporters catching up to them if they stopped somewhere along the fastest route to the _Planet_. With Metropolis being such a big city. a slightly longer route pretty much assured they would get the pictures to the office.

When they arrived, Perry White escorted Bell and Lane to Developing while Lane briefed White. she then goes off to write her story. "Bell, whether these pictures turn out or not, you are going to get a little bonus for creative thinking. I would never have thought of using a Colored restroom like that," White said.

"I bet Miss Lane pulls that stunt all the time," Bell replied.

"You may be right about that. If she didn't before, she will definitely keep it as an option, now," White said.

"Uh, Mr. White if the pictures turn out, can I have a byline?" Bell asked and held his breath.

White looked at him , stared at him for a few seconds. Bell began to wonder if he had pushed too far.

"Yes," he finally said. "If they turn out, you deserve it."

_Author's Note. Metropolis has been placed in several States over the years. It has been listed as being in Connecticut, New York, New Jersey and Delaware. The State that I am opting for is Delaware._

_The Torchy Blaine movies followed the adventures of a fictional woman reporter. I saw a couple of them on television. The movies were made in this era, so Lois and Paul would both be familiar with the character.  
_

_At that time, legal age for a woman was eighteen and for a man was twenty-one. Mrs. Peete's brothers couldn't legally leave the orphange before they were twenty-one without legal permission._

_French Indochina was a name for most of what we now call Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.  
_


	4. Thursday

Bell woke up with a start. He glanced around. 7:15 AM. The pictures had turned out very well. This meant that there had to be some last minute changes to the morning edition which meant that everyone on the clock at the time had to pitch in to insert the new pictures and Lois' article as the lead story in the morning edition.

Mr. White asked Lane and Bell to stay and help do the mundane things that had to happen. Bell called home to tell his parents that he'd be really late. When the paper was put to bed, Mr. White offered Bell the use of his office couch. Bell called home and told them he was spending the night and took White up on his offer.

Bell sat up and saw an envelope in his shoe with his initials on it. He opened it and found fifty cents with a note saying that breakfast was on Mr. White. After finding a restroom and splashing some water on his face, he went and ordered himself a large breakfast. and sat at "his" table. Some of the early morning people started drifting in and were looking at the morning paper. Though no one said anything to him, he could hear snatches of conversation with his name mentioned. He had tried to get White to let him help Lane cover the indictment, but was told that, though he had been spectacular last night, White need to have an experienced photographer check him out to make sure that Bell didn't have any serious gaps in his training before he could justify sending him on such an assignment.

Lane came in and sat next to Bell. She didn't look good. Like Bell, she was wearing the same clothes that she had been wearing yesterday and it was obvious to everyone that they had both slept in their clothes. From the tone of voices that suddenly began to be heard, it sounded like some were wondering why they had been sleeping in their clothes.

That question was brought to the forefront when Sullivan and Murphy walked in to the cafeteria. When they laid eyes on the two, their faces flushed and they stormed over to the table. "What do we have here?" Sullivan said loudly. He reached down and tried threw a right punch at Bell's head. Bell saw the punch coming and pushed his chair back as much as he could without losing his balance. He just missed getting clocked. Bell quickly grabbed Sullivan's forearm and yanked down. With his left hand, he threw a punch that grazed Sullivan's ear enough that he cried out in pain and fell to the floor as Bell got to his feet.

Murphy tried to go after Bell as well, but Lane threw her coffee at him. Though it didn't hit him in the eye, he did get scalded. He cursed and raised his hand to strike her when he was tackled from behind by Jimmy Olsen. They went to the ground. Though Jimmy got the first shot in, it didn't take long for Murphy to overpower him. Murphy would have started to wail on Olsen except that his head was suddenly yanked back and his nose was broken by a single blow from Bell.

As he rolled off Olsen, holding his broken nose, blood flowing down his face, Murphy began cursing loudly. Bell helped Olsen to his feet as a shout of, "What is going on here?" was heard. Lawley stormed into the cafeteria

""These two goons attacked Paul and me for no reason!" Lane said quickly.

"Oh and what were you two doing last night! Nothing good, I bet," Sullivan said belligerently.

"Wrong, you moron. See this?" Lawley grabbed a front page section of the morning paper. "They went and got the biggest scoop that the _Planet_ has had since before Thanksgiving! From what I heard, they were in here all night getting this ready for the paper!" You two knuckleheads get out of here. You're fired. Pick up your pay and don't put down the _Planet_ as a reference."

"What about him?" Sullivan pointed at Bell. "He hit both of us. He should be fired, too!"

"Too bad that he didn't knock you out," Lawley said. After Sullivan and Murphy had left, Lawley asked Bell what had happened. "After he attacked me, he learned that I know how to box," is all he said.

Most of the rest of the day, people talked to Bell for the first time. Almost everyone congratulated him either for the photos or for the fight. Murphy and Sullivan had stepped on a lot of toes. More than one person, both Negro and White had stated that they wish they had seen the fight.

About a half hour before the shift was over, Bell got the word that Mr. White wanted to see him. He was apprehensive as he knocked on the door. "Mr. White, you wanted to see me?"

He entered the offi8ce. There were two very large, muscular men sitting on the couch. they rose when he entered. "Come in Bell. These are a couple of men who work for the _Planet_. I wanted them to escort you to the subway and make sure you have any problems with Sullivan and Murphy. I don't want want to give them a chance to settle things. For the next week, I want you to try and take different routes home, just to be on the same side."

"You think they would come after me?" Bell asked.

"I doubt it, but why take the chance?" White said. "Take off a little early tonight. You've earned it."

When he got home that night, dinner was almost ready. There was a full house. His sister Beth had two of her friends over. His brother was talking on the phone and the radio was playing Chattanooga Choo Choo. The girls joined them for dinner and the conversation at the table revolved around what was going on at school. Two long term enemies at the junior high had had a major fight that required four male teachers to break up, There was comments about how some girl was wearing her hair and another girl was wearing her clothes.

The parents let it go for a while and then asked if they were gossiping. That shut down that line of conversation. Turning to Paul, his father said. "Nice work on the paper last night. Your mother mailed a couple of copies of the _Planet _to your grandparents."

"Let me tell you what happened last night," Paul said smiling. He regaled them with the story of what happened at the police station and everyone was laughing at the end. He didn't mention the fight that morning. He knew that would upset his mother.

Just as they were finishing dinner, the phone rang. It was one of Paul's friends. "Mitch wants to know if I can go with him and Ben to the movies tonight."

"As long as you are home by ten," his father said.

"Show starts at seven? Okay, I can go." He hung up. "They will pick me up in a few minutes."

"Help clear the table while you are waiting. Oh, and keep to root beer. A caffeinated drink will keep you up. Connor, help your mother with the dishes," his father commanded.

Paul and his friends arrived at the theater, just in time. They went to find a seat as the Movietone News began to play. The newsreel showed a group Japanese diplomats in negotiation with the American diplomats. There was an article about the war in Europe. there was an article about American industrial improvements and then a feel good article. Paul thought that the feel good article was stupid, Like that was going to make all the other stories less grim?

When he got home that night his father was reading a book while the rest of his family was listening to a comedy. His father asked to speak with him in the kitchen. "I'm wondering, are they planning to make you a photographer? You start out as a copy boy on Monday and now you are photographing racketeers being led off to jail. You are still seventeen. I know that you don't want to hear this, but you are not as grown up as you think."

"Dad, I'm not an investigative reporter. I was just at the right place at the right time. If someone else had been closer, they'd have had the same shots, too. I'm not doing anything dangerous. Think about the publicity if it came out that they were sending seventeen year olds on their most dangerous assignment? Covering a booking or an arraignment is everyday stuff! Worse thing that happens is other journalists make wisecracks about you. It's not dangerous," he said.

His father seemed mollified. Paul went in and took a shower. By the time he was done, everyone was making for bed. It was a school day tomorrow.


	5. Friday

Bell knocked on Lois Lane's office door the next morning. "Mr. Lawley said that you wanted to see me?" he asked.

"Yes Paul. I wanted you to look this over. This is my article on the refugee story. I wanted to get your opinion before I show it to Mr. White. Sit down."

When he sat in the chair next to her desk, she handed him the article. As he read the story a smile came across his face. "This is great! Everyone is going to love this quote by that Korean guy that we talked to, 'America gave my family safety from Japan. Thank you! If war happen. If America want me. I fight for America so American never be prisoner of Japan. I love God, then my family and then America' That is a good idea to leave in the bad grammar. It shows sincerity." he said.

"That's what I was thinking. I think Mr. White will like it, too. I wanted to ask you about something else," she said as he handed back the document. "What do you know about Chinatown's orphanage?"

"The orphanage?" Paul said, surprised.

"Yes, the orphanage. Your pastor said that was the only place that he knew of that had Jap Americans. Where are they coming from if there are no Jap American adults? Now I believe that Paster Deng only knows the people that he admitted to knowing. That doesn't mean that his information is completely accurate. How do we know that there isn't a small Jap American Fifth Column? They could have moved in since the Census or they could have lied about being Chinese. With the shipyards and munitions plants, Metropolis would be a target for such things in the war," Lois said.

"I never thought of that," Paul said uncomfortably.

"That is what an investigative reporter has to at least consider. Right now, I have no evidence that such a cell exists. For the record, I hope that I don't find one, because if I find one, I'll be worrying that I missed one. I don't write that type of paranoia unless I have some real evidence. That's yellow journalism. An investigative reporter's job is to investigate. So, what do you know about the orphanage?" she asked.

"Well," he started. "I know that it is by Curtis Elementary. I know that Mr. Pang started it. I heard that it is the only orphanage for Asian Americans on the East Coast. I don't know if that is true. It is run by a Board of Directors. I know that the pastor of Chinatown First Baptist is one of the directors. There is another orphange in Kensington for Negro kids. I've heard that some of the kids are foundlings. They don't even know if they are Jap, Chinese, Burmese or what. Some are racially mixed. What else would you like to know?"

"Did you go to school with any of the orphans?" Lois asked.

"Not that I know of," he answered. "You know, now that I think about it, my graduating class was two hundred thirty-one kids. I didn't know everyone. I guess there could have been a few and if they had kept to themselves or just had a different set of friends or maybe a different class schedule, I could have missed them. "

"Lets talk around it. You said that the orphanage is near what school?" Lane asked.

"Charles Curtis Elementary School," Bell answered.

"Named for President Hoover's Vice President?" she asked.

"Yeah. All the public schools in Chinatown are named for people in American history. There are, um, seven elementary schools, two junior highs and one high school. The high school is named John Hanson High," he answered.

"I will say one thing; you are an endless supply of new information. Who was John Hanson?" she asked.

"Oh, the first popularly elected President of the United States of America," he said casually.

Lois looked at him a little funny. "According to my history books, that was George Washington."

"Did your history books happen to mention the Articles of Confederation?" Paul countered

Lois had a feeling that she was about to walk into a trap. "Briefly," she said cautiously.

"There is a dedication plaque on the outside of the school that tells the story. Long story short is that there were several presidents during the Articles of Confederation years. At that time, one could only be president for a year. The first few presidents were elected by Congress. Hanson was the first publicly elected president. Most Americans have forgotten about that era. Mr. Pang thought that by having the school named for President Hanson, it would increase Americans' knowledge of our country's history." Paul answered.

"Who are the other schools named after?" she asked curious.

"Well, let's see. Curtis. Samuel Morse Elementary and Betsy Ross Elementary feed into Thomas McKean Junior High. McKean was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence from Delaware. He was one of the presidents that was elected by Congress even before Hanson. I thought that everybody knew this stuff. Oh, I'm sorry. that was really rude." Paul got very red in the face. Kicking himself, he said, 'Keep it up moron and you will lose your best friend here.'

'No, I didn't know this stuff. Don't worry about it." Lois said and smiled.

"Well, three of the other four elementary schools feed into Peyton Randolph Junior High. Randolph was the head of the Second Continental Congress when they declared independence from Britain in 1776. Bethie went to Davey Crockett Elementary. The other two are Thomas Bayard Elementary. He was a senator who ran for president a couple of times in the 1800's, also from Delaware and Lue Elementary.

The story that I'm told is that Lue Gim Gong was an immigrant who got to naturalize before it became illegal for Chinese to do so. He did something to improve how oranges survive winter in Florida. I understand that he developed some kind kind of cross fertilization technique. Lue Elementary is the official name but the plaque tells the story of him, I'm told. Hey, why not a Chinese American? It is Chinatown. Anyway, the last school is Abigail Adams Elementary. Their students split between the two junior highs because of where the school is located."

"I can't believe that you know the name of every school, down there." Lois said.

"Why not? You have to remember that Chinatown is a closed community. It isn't that large compared to a lot of the other ethnic neighborhoods. Kensington has more than twice our population. So do a lot of the other more established neighborhoods, like Little Italy or Little Paris. Everything is still new.

I'm an old timer. Most of the people have been there less than eleven years. I remember Chinatown being built. When Connor and I started school, there was only one elementary school for Asians. That building is now the vocational education building of the high school. I remember when each school opened. I remember when a lot of the churches were being built and all of the house construction and well, I pretty much saw my entire community built. I was born and raised in Metropolis. Not that many people can say that in Chinatown. I saw it all happen," Paul said

Lois stared at him for a moment. Paul started fidgeting. He said, "Look, I'm sorry. I'm coming off like a jerk today. I don't know why.'

"Forget it. Everyone has a bad day, once in a while. I hope that you are in a better mood when we meet Mr. Pang, this afternoon," Lois said offhandedly.

"We are going to what?" Paul said incredulously.

"Mr. White arranged it. We have an appointment at two. Do you have your camera?" Lois asked.

"Yes, I..left it in my locker. I forgot to take it home the other day." He paused a moment. "Why me? Not that I don't want to go, I do, but Mr. White hasn't had me checked out yet."

"Because you have a true passion for what he has done and that is important. Another reason is that you know that I have seen what he has done so you know that I respect what he is doing. If you come, you have to understand that I have no intention of writing an article to put him in a bad light, but this is a real interview and I have to ask real questions. I can't have you answer for him and rushing to his defense. Do you understand?"

Lois had most serious look on her face that Paul had ever seen on a woman's face. The unsaid statement was clear: he was in the Big Leagues. The days of a community paper were over. This was the adult world.

She kept staring at her until he answered. "I understand." He swallowed. What had he committed himself, to?

"I forgot to ask you over for dinner on Sunday. Mom liked meeting you the other day and wants to get to know you a little better. Are you doing anything around two o'clock?"

"Not that I know of. Tell your mom that I'd love to come." Lois answered as they arrived at the main office of PIE Industries. It was a ten story office building several miles from the heart of the business district. The neighboring buildings were about half as tall. They drove into a company garage that was behind the main building. What amazed the both of them was the level of security there was in the building. The closer one got to Pang's office the tighter the security was.

Lane commented to Bell, "I covered a White House event once. President Roosevelt didn't have this kind of security."

"I had heard that security here was tight, but knowing it and seeing it are two different things," he agreed.

Before they were shown into his office suite, two middle aged women who looked like they should have been matrons at the local jail insisted that they be allowed to search Lane's purse. Bell's camera was checked as well. Their coats were taken.

When they finally entered Mr. Pang's office, they both had felt like they had gone through a security system worthy of Fort Knox. William Pang rose from his desk and came over to greet them. What surprised the two reporters was that three guards were in the room including one of the women. Pang shook both of their hands and introduced himself.

Lane introduced them both which was good since Bell had suddenly become tongue tied. "Paul Bell? Are you DJ and Nora Bell's boy?"

"Y-yes sir," he stammered. _WOW HE KNEW ABOUT ME_! he thought.

He slapped Paul on the shoulder. "Relax, son. You're among friends. I'd seen a couple of your pictures in the _Gazette_. Saw that spread in the _Planet_ yesterday, but I thought that it was another photographer with the same name. I remember when you were born. Your daddy was passing out the cigars and I would have sworn that he was the happiest man in Metropolis. You probably don't remember the last time that we visited."

"We have met before?" Bell was thunderstruck.

"It was a Christmas party. You were two or three at the time," Pang answered.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember, sir," Bell said a little embarrassed .

"Don't worry about it. Now to business. Would you care for a drink?" Pang walked over to a bar.

"Yes thank you. Coffee with cream and sugar," she said.

"What would you like Paul?" Pang asked

"A soda would be great or juice if you don't have it," Paul said nervously.

While Pang was getting the drinks, Lois leaned over and said softly. "Get ready to take some photos."

"Oh, year. Right. Sorry," He got his camera out and checked his flash bulb. When Pang returned with the drinks he asked if he could get some pictures. Pang acquiesced and Paul took several pictures of him. When he tried to get a picture of Pang speaking with Lane the three guards moved into the background of the picture. Before he said anything Pang said, "It has to be this way Paul. I can't allow myself to be photographed alone with a woman especially a White woman. It would cause unnecessary problems."

After Bell had gotten his shots and returned to his seat, Lois asked. "So that woman," she indicated the other woman in the room. "She is part of your security detail?"

"Yes. I have several women whose job it is to ensure there is an additional female presence in my office anytime there is a woman in here. Call it he woman's touch in my personal security system. Each woman has a long history working in law enforcement. It helps to keep unwanted allegations at bay," Pang said.

"I never would have thought of using a woman as a bodyguard," Paul said.

"I don't expect her to wrestle down a man. She is only to engage a woman assailant and she is to give truthful testimony whether I behave myself or not. She protects me in ways that men can not. So, what are we going to talk about today?" Pang said.

Lois got down to business. "How does it feel to be called 'The Richest Negro in the World?'"

"I'd really prefer that folks didn't focus on that detail. It is just a fact. I'd prefer folks to see how I'm using the money. How do I treat my employees? Do I do just the minimum to make my plants safe or do I go beyond that? What have I done in Kensington, Chinatown, and Mississippi? Am I living a Christian lifestyle? That's what I'd like folks to concentrate on," he said.

"It has come to my attention that you have invested heavily in the infrastructure of several British African colonies. Why?" she asked.

For the first time, Pang looked uncomfortable. "That is kind of confidential. I hope that you don't advertise that."

Lois didn't say anything for a few seconds. After a bit Pang continued, "I suppose you want to know why I am providing some of my resources to the colony of a country at war?"

"Since you asked..." Lois said.

"Since I asked, huh? This is all I'm doing. I am helping some cities and villages develop and construct some roads, sewer systems and electrical power plants. Many Africans now have electricity in their homes for the first time. They don't have an FDR to do a New Deal for them. I suppose someone could build a munitions plant there, but I don't see myself helping with that." Pang said.

"What do you see yourself helping with?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Pang said.

"Mr Pang, you are not doing this to increase your market share in board games. There is something going on here. I can hold a story if there is a good reason, but you have got to level with me," Lane said.

Pang stared at her, getting her measure. After a full minute, he said, "If you reveal this, people will die. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," she said.

"Can I trust your confidence, Paul?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. Not a word." Bell answered.

"All right, then. One of the reasons that I am so wealthy is that I understand how economics and markets work. I have always been able to read trends. I knew the banks would collapse. that is why I had almost all of my money out and a lot of it turned into gold in my personal safe before the Crash."

"Everything I see tells me that we will be in the war in no more than six months. We can out manufacture almost everything better than the Axis. We do have one weakness. We can't grow rubber. That is an import. I believe that Japan will cut off our access to the Asian supplies of rubber which is our primary source. Our tires. What will we do when they wear out? For want of a nail.

Certain parts of Africa can grow rubber plants, but most of those places are underdeveloped. To this end, I am helping improve the ability of the United States by helping to improve the health and livelihoods of the people who will provide a lot of our rubber. The sanitation will reduce illness of the workers. Electricity and roads will expedite transportation of the rubber to port. After the war, it is my hope that Bible translators will benefit from access to a modern city or two over there. Without the Gospel, democracy can not work. There. that last sentence should be enough to hang me. If I can make a profit over there, fine. If I don't, I look at it as an investment in the future of the world. Now do you see why I don't want it advertised?" Pang said.

"You are spending hundreds of thousands of dollars, a fortune, on a contingency?" Lane asked incredulously.

"Yes," he said. "Now let's spend some time talking about things you can use in your article?" he said.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Excuse me." A younger man, obviously Pang's son, walked in to the room. One of the guards helped him with the door. The younger Pang was walking with crutches. To Lane and Bell's experienced eyes one word came to mind: Polio.

"Your secretary didn't think that you would mind an interruption," the younger Pang said.

"It is a good time. This is my son, Joel. Joel, this is Lois Lane from _The Daily Planet_ and DJ Bell's boy Paul. He is working for the _Planet_, too."

They rose and he shook their hands. "I see your father from time to time. Nice man," Joel Pang said. "Father, can I borrow you for just a second?"

"Excuse me, please," the older Pang said and both men stepped into a side room for a couple of minutes. When they returned the younger Pang smiled at them and left

"So what would you like to talk about?" Pang asked.

"Let's start with your family," Lane suggested.

They could tell that suggestion pleased Pang.

"My wife, Alice, and I have seven children. My oldest daughter married a doctor and has five little ones. He works in one of the Negro hospitals in Metropolis. I won't say his name or hospital for security reasons. My oldest son is an attorney and an officer in the Army, He tells me that he doesn't see a lot of other Negro or Asian officers. He works in D.C. My second son has my flair for inventions. He has an engineering degree and he is working in one of my research facilities. He is married and his wife just had their first child, a boy. You've met Joel. He has my sense for finance. I have another son and two daughters that are still in school." he answered.

"You are obviously proud of them," Lane commented.

"I am more pleased with the kind of people that they have become. It wasn't easy for them as children. After Lindberg's baby was kidnapped, they had to live with security as a regular part of their lives. That tends to isolate a person from the rest of the world. I didn't want my kids to become just focused on money or themselves. I'm quite pleased with how they have turned out." Pang answered.

"Is that why you built Kensington and Chinatown? That way your children would see you helping others so they would do the same thing?" Bell asked.

Pang chucked. "I never thought of that angle, although I am sure that they have gotten that message. No, I built Kensington and Chinatown for other reasons. Think about it. It's 1930. People are starving in the streets here, in Metropolis. I have millions of dollars. The people who have it the worst here are the Negroes. Chinatown was mostly older immigrants by that time. There were a few families, but not many courtesy of the Chinese Exclusion Act. I bought as much of the real estate as I could. I start hiring locals in Kensington and bringing folks from Mississippi and Tennessee. I don't mean just Chinese, either. Most of my employees had kin that needed work. Some Whites have worked for me for a long time, but not in the South. These days, the Klan is just as likely to lynch a White man as a race traitor as they are to lynch a Black man."

"Both communities have a lot of folks that I brought up to provide jobs to build my factories. Then we started building the private homes and the churches and the schools and the businesses. People followed their kin looking for work, both Negroes and Chinese from the South along with my White employees. Most of my White employees are Americans. One thing that I didn't anticipate happening was the American Indians showing up. It worked out okay, though. I think that Chinatown has turned into a blessing for a lot of them. I didn't plan it, but I'm glad that it happened."

"I understand that there are Jap American kids in your orphanage. Where are they coming from if there are no Jap American parents in Metropolis?" Lois asked.

"New York, Boston, Baltimore, Gotham. They come from the same messes as any other race of kids. Some of their parents are in prison. At least those kids have a chance of going home. Some will live in the orphanage until they are adults. Some were conceived through prostitution or rape, or similar circumstances. Some are racially mixed. Some are foundlings and we have no idea about their background other than they are Asian Americans. Last I heard there were about a hundred kids in the orphanage in Chinatown at the moment. Most of them are under twelve. We have a few teenagers that would love an opportunity to have a part time job at a place like the _Planet_. Most of them aren't Jap, or perhaps one of the Negro kids at the Kensington orphanage would work out," Pang said casually.

"That would be up to Mr. White," Lois said diplomatically.

"Of course," he answered.

"One last question: how do you feel about Jews and immigrants?"

"I'll hire some immigrants, but I have to be careful how many and where they are from. It can have a bearing on whether or not I will get a government contract or not. I won't hire a Jap, a German or an Eye-talian. Even though they may well be refugees from their own county, it can be used against me and simply put, why take the risk? No Fifth Columns, please. Same for Jap, German or Eye-talian Americans. It can be used against me. As far as Jews go, if they are American born and their parents are American born, I don't have any problems hiring them. If they are foreign born or the parents are, then it depends on where they are from. I am not going to hire a Jew from Poland or Germany or one of the other countries that Germany has conquered for the same reason that I won't hire other immigrants from those countries. I don't want some Gestapo goon approaching an employee and saying, 'you better help us or it will go badly for your loved ones.' I have enough trouble keeping an eye on the Klan for that, I don't need to be watching out for Nazis threatening German American employees, too. From time to time, I will meet one of these immigrants or their American children that I believe is someone that I should help, then I will try and find them a job somewhere else, somewhere that can not be used against me or America. Yes, I asked Clifford to give Ruby a chance. I help who I can, but I can't help everyone. I'm only one man."

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When they returned to the _Planet_, Bell took his photos to have them developed while Lane went to finish her story. They had arrived just as the evening edition was being put to bed. If he thought that the regular edition of the Planet was intense, he got a new appreciation for intensity.

The articles that Bell and Lane had been working on were slated for the weekend edition. Parts of the weekend edition had been prepared during the week, but even with both the morning and swing shifts working together it was a lot of work. By the time he had knocked off for the evening, Bell was exhausted. He and Jimmy along with four other copy boys walked out together after the others picked up their pay. Paul would have to wait a week before he would see any money. Paul had still had a little that he had saved from the _Gazette_ so he wasn't worried about being broke. He was at the subway station before he realized that he had left his camera in his locker again.

"Don't worry about it. You locked the locker right? It'll be there tomorrow. Besides, next week you probably can go home without taking the scenic route." Jimmy said. They were at the terminal where Jimmy would go to home.

"Yeah, you're right. See you tomorrow and tell your mom that she is invited to dinner on Sunday. My dad offered to give you a lift, and he won't mind giving her one, too," Bell said

"I'll call you later!" Jimmy said as he jumped onto the subway.

Paul double checked the wall map and got on the right train. As he rode a bus through the business section of Chinatown, Paul looked at the various shops and restaurants that were lit up with Christmas decorations. One man at the right time with the right resources and most importantly, with the right heart created his community. Paul had always known that Mr. Pang was the community patron, but to hear why he did what was done just amazed the teenager.

He got off the bus by a newsstand. His mom had told him that morning that he would have to fend for himself tonight. She and Beth were going caroling with some of the church women. He bought a copy of _The Kensington Times_. After listening to Mr. Pang, he thought it might be good to know a little more about what was going on over there. He had to honestly admit that except for Mrs. Peete, he didn't know any Negroes. From time to time he saw Negroes who worked in Chinatown The Negroes would read it on the way home. He knew that a lot of the Chinese had friendships with folks in Kensington that went back to Mississippi. He didn't have those kinds of friendships. How could he? He wasn't from Mississippi. He wasn't Chinese. No matter how much he loved Chinatown and felt accepted by the community. he wasn't Chinese. He was Anglo-Burmese. He knew that Kensington existed, but in reality, he didn't know what was going on there. Maybe it was time to start paying attention and find out.

He put the paper under his arm and walked down the block past a pool hall, then a parking lot and finally to a Chinese restaurant that specialized in northern Chinese cuisine. He entered the restaurant and saw that it had a moderate crowd. there were two Negro families, a White couple enjoying their meal as well as Asian customers. Paul ordered a noodle and pork dish that he liked.

When he finished eating he went to the counter to pay his bill, but the waitress was busy. The cook, an older man who was one of the refugees, came out. and in his broken English, took care of the transaction. As the till closed, a woman's voice was heard from a nearby table. "Elizabeth Yukiko Yamamoto that is inappropriate! You need to stop that, now!"

The cook's face got red. He reached under the counter and pulled out a crowbar and started towards the table with murder in his eyes. "You Japs go. NOW!" The husband's back was to the man so he had no chance to defend himself or his family. The wife and the children screamed.

Paul didn't think. He was shocked, but he felt detached, like someone else was in his body. While the crowbar was raised to strike the defenseless man, Paul stepped behind him and threw a punch to the man's kidney. The older man screamed and dropped the crowbar which did brush against the seated man's skull, doing far less damage than it would have had the refugee delivered the blow. Using the same trick that he did on Murphy, Bell broke the refugee's nose and shoved him to the ground.

By this time, the intended victim had gotten to his feet and was rubbing his head. The children were crying and the mother was trying to gather them to her. He approached the fallen man. "You tried to kill me," he said and kicked the man in the ribs, hard. An old woman started screaming, (in what Paul assumed was either Chinese or Manchurian,) the refugee's wife. "In front of my kids!" He went to kick the downed man again, as his own wife screamed, "Richard, no!"As he drew his foot back, Paul reached in and shoved the man, who stumbled backwards and fell into a table.

"Enough!" Bell shouted. "You got a shot in and he's down! You want to do this in front of your little kids! He is an old guy who lost everything in Manchuria! He is no longer a threat to you!" Bell said

The old guy started screaming GET OUT! GET OUT AND NO COME BACK!

"Richard, please! Listen to him! Not in front of the children!" his wife begged.

The man took a couple of breaths and said, "Let's get out of here." The relief in his wife was palpable.

"Get out! You too, boy! No come back no more!" the old man cried.

Paul grabbed his paper and waited as the children put on their coats.

As soon as they got outside. the woman grasped both of Paul's hands. "I can NEVER thank you enough for what you just did!" she exclaimed.

"She right. I'd've killed that guy if you hadn't of stopped me." He stuck out his hand. "Richard Yamamoto."

Paul took it. "Paul Bell,"

"This is my wife Laura, our kids Lucy, who is ten, Liz, who is eight, and the twins Archie and Ray who are almost five. I just started this year as a professor at Metropolis University. We were hoping to find a restaurant to eat at. but..." he said.

"I want to go back to L.A." Archie said

"I'm hungry!" Ray said.

"Look, there is a hamburger joint a couple of blocks up that you won't have any problems at. It's called Yep's. The owner and I think all of the employees are Americans," Paul said.

The couple looked at each other. "Richard we need to get something into these kids before it gets too late. Let's try it. I don't want the kids to be terrified of the Chinese." After a second, he nodded.

Turning to Paul, he asked, "Care to join us?"

Paul accepted their invitation and everyone got into the Yamamoto car. As they drove past the restaurant, the owner came out and waved his crowbar at them.

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It was definitely a much friendlier crowd at Yep's. Four tables were occupied along with some patrons at the counter. Except for an American Indian family, the rest were Chinese Americans as Paul expected. The waitress that took their order was the owner's daughter, a girl who had graduated with Paul earlier that year. Mrs. Yamamoto was taken aback with the Southern accents as Lois had been. When she asked about it, Paul just mentioned that there was going to be a big article about Chinatown in the weekend edition of the _Planet_ in which the southern accents would be explained. He knew it because he had helped write it.

"So, you are a journalist?" she asked.

"A photographer and copy boy. It depends on what they need at the time," Paul answered. "I just started with _The Daily Planet_, but I used to do it for another paper. That is what I've been doing since I graduated last May." he said.

"You've graduated university?" she asked surprised

"No. High school. I'm seventeen," he said.

"You're...you mean I owe my family's life to a..Excuse me," she said and hurried to the ladies room.

As the door closed, Paul said, slightly miffed. "I'm sorry that I'm not twenty-one."

"Paul, please don't be offended. If you hadn't stepped in, that guy," he glanced at the kids, "would have been a problem."

Glancing at the kids, Paul changed the subject. "So what do you do for a living?"

Mr. Yamamoto was a Japanese language instructor at Metropolis University. He and his wife and kids had been born in the Los Angeles area. He had grown up speaking both languages.. Bell told him that except for the refugees, most Chinese Americans in Metropolis didn't speak Chinese which really surprised Mr. Yamamoto.

Mrs. Yamamoto returned to the table. Mr. Yamamoto offered her a cigarette, which she gratefully accepted. He offered one to Paul who declined. Mr. Yamamoto pulled out a lighter and after both he and his wife were lit up, told her what Paul had said about the Chinese Americans in Metropolis.

"That's amazing. Look Paul. I know that I was rude, just now. I hope that you will forgive me. It's.." she started.

"Don't worry about it," Paul said.

She smiled.

"We are definitely moving back to L.A. after this school year is over," Mr. Yamamoto said to the cheers of his children.

"Well, while you're here, you guys going to church anywhere?" Paul asked.

"We've never been to church before," Archie piped up.

"I've seen way too much hypocrisy in churches," Mr. Yamamoto said.

"I know that there is a lot of that in some churches, but not in every church. If you are concerned about not being Chinese, don't be. I'm not Chinese, and I fit in. We have got some Indians and they fit in too," Paul answered

""Do they really wear feathers in their hair like in the movies?" Lucy asked.

"Only when they go to pow wows. That is a kind of an Indian dance party that is kind of formal," he answered. "Most of the times, though they don't. They dress like everybody else. The people at that table over there," he pointed across the room, "are Indians. That's what real Indians look like." He looked back at the parents. "Pastor Deng will not care that you're Jap Americans. Neither would any of the other elders or deacons. They will make sure that you don't have any trouble."

There was an uncomfortable silence. "What?" Paul said

"We really, really hate the word, 'Jap'", Mr. Yamamoto said.

"Almost as much as Colored People hate a certain word that starts with an N," Mrs. Yamamoto added.

Paul's face felt hot. "Um, you're the first Jap ur Japanese American family that I have ever met," Paul said apologetically.

Mrs. Yamamoto smiled, "The fact that you are willing to listen and to learn means a lot to us. It is a credit to you and your parents," she said.

"And my church," he added.

"Okay. And your church," she concurred.

"We'll think about it. Why don't you write down your contact information. Whether we go to your church or not, we would like to meet your family. We haven't met a lot of friendly people here," Mr. Yamamoto said.

After dinner, they gave Paul a ride home. He found the house empty. "Good. I can listen to what I want," he said turning on the radio. Paul tossed the paper and his coat on the sofa and he went to the restroom. He came out and found a mystery to listen to while he perused the Kensington paper. About nine o'clock his mother and sister along with Mrs. Deng came into the house.

Beth took one look at him and said, "You are the luckiest boy alive!" She went into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Paul looked at the women and said, "Huh?"

They looked at each other. His mother walked over to the table and picked up an envelope that Paul hadn't noticed. and handed it to him. It had his name on it. "Mr. Pang sent someone over with this, this afternoon," she said.

Paul opened the envelope. It read, _Dear Paul, I have an ability to see potential. You have potential to be a good journalist. That's doesn't mean that is what you will do for the rest of your life. Only God know that, but you were intimidated yet you had the discipline to do your job, I know Miss Lane guided you, but you did the job without fumbling. You asked intelligent and insightful questions. You behaved in a professional manner the entire time. I like to encourage people within whom I see potential. I can't be your best pal, but as the community patron, I can help a little when I feel the help is appropriate. For as long as you work in journalism, put my little gifts to good use. God Bless. Wm. Pang._

He showed the letter to his mother. Mrs. Pang read it over her shoulder. "What gifts?" he asked.

"I take it, you haven't been in your bedroom since you got home," his mother replied.

He bolted to his room and flipped on the light. On his bed was an IBM Model A typewriter, the most advanced typewriter on the market. Next to it was a brand new professional camera complete with an assortment of lenses, flashes and every sort of camera paraphernalia that he could need to take photos and develop them, complete with enough film to last him a long time along with reference books. Though it wasn't the cutting edge, the camera equipment was of several orders of magnitude better than what he had been using. The lenses alone could easily cost him a year's pay. Just to top it off there was a case of typing paper. He couldn't help it. He got choked up. .

"I take it, that is very nice equipment?" his mother asked. He went over and gave her a hug and said, "Oh yeah, more than I could afford in a year."

"I should go," Mrs Deng said and started towards the door.

"No wait! I need to talk to you," Paul said

He spent the next few minutes telling them about his meeting of the Yamamotos. "I think that they want to be around other Asian Americans that won't brain them." he said.

"I know that Clifford and the other elders will run interference for the Yamamotos if they come," Mrs. Deng said.

"So long as nobody calls them Japs, they will definitely be pleased," Paul said as his father and brother came in the house. "Where'd you go?" Paul asked.

"Movie," Connor answered. "Nice camera."

"I can't believe that I got that," Paul said.

As Mrs. Deng left, the telephone rang. It was Jimmy.

"Oh, Mom, Miss Lane said yes, Can we have Jimmy's mom over too? I guess she's a widow," Paul asked a moment later. Mr. Bell took the phone and arranged to pick the Olsen's up after church for dinner. Then Paul told Jimmy, another aspiring photographer, his great news. Jimmy was as impressed as Paul expected him to be.

As he lay in bed that night, he had a hard time getting to sleep. His world was changing so fast. Before he had gone to bed, he broke in his new typewriter by writing a thank you note. He told Beth that she could use the typewriter whenever he wasn't using it, but he didn't want her touching the photography equipment, which her father reinforced and made sure that Connor knew not to touch the photography equipment either.

It was the first time in a while that he went to sleep without a thought of the war in his head.

_Historical Notes._

_At the time of this story, it had been almost nine years since Charles Curtis had been Vice-President under Herbert Hoover. Everyone, even a teenager like Paul Bell would remember Curtis._

_The Firestone Tire Company invested in Liberia because of the rubber issue that I described. I don't know if there was such investment as I described in British Africa during the Second World War or not._

_During this era, an employer could legally refuse to hire someone based on race, religion or where they came from. Only under certain strict Federally controlled jobs, such as national defense related employment, or religious based jobs is that legal in the United States anymore._

_Pang's paranoia about Fifth Columnists was common at the time.  
_


	6. Saturday

Paul had a hard time dragging himself out of bed the next morning. After a quick shower he went in and found his dad dressed at the table and his mom in her bathrobe making pancakes. "Sit down. I am giving you a ride to work, today." he said.

As he sat down, his mother handed him a plate. After breakfast, he and his father put on their galoshes and went out to the car. It was raining that morning so they didn't have to scrape the windows. They drove for a while without talking before Mr. Bell said. "So, have you got your eye on a particular girl?"

"Dad!" Paul said, embarrassed.

"Part of good parenting is knowing how to not stick your head in the sand. I know that you've noticed girls. Remember that time that I jumped on you for catcalling that girl last summer?" he said.

"Don't remind me," Paul answered.

"You embarrassed that girl and you deserved to get grounded. Don't pretend that you don't know that." his father said.

"You didn't have to ground me in front of half of my friends," Paul said bitterly.

"I embarrassed you in front of half of your friends because you acted like a cad in front of those friends. She deserved to see you get it, too. You aren't a man yet and even if you were, I would have jumped all over you for behaving that way towards a woman. You are close to being a man, but you are not there yet. Overall, I am quite pleased with how you're maturing, but every now and again, you still need a little tuning up. That's what a good father does to his teenage son."

"It was graduation day!" Paul exclaimed.

"So?" his father responded.

They drove in silence. Paul found the sound of the windshield wipers soothing as he looked at the gray sky beginning to lighten for the day. Paul asked what his dad was doing today. "I have a lunch meeting in D.C. with a British Embassy official for work," Mr. Bell said

"When will you be home," Paul asked.

"Sometime tonight," his dad answered.

"There is something else that I need to talk with you about. I had a little call from Mr. Pang yesterday. He wanted me to tell you that his little gift is not a bribe. It is a gift. Whatever information you came across, you promised him to keep his secret. He is trusting you to keep your word," his dad said.

"Did he tell you what it was about?" Paul asked.

"No, and unless it involves your personal safety, I don't need to know," his father answered.

"Pass the word back that I won't say anything, but you might want to remind hims that Miss Lane isn't the only good investigative reporter in this town. Someone else might figure it out. I promised that I wouldn't talk and I won't," Paul said.

"I'll pass it on," his father said.

After another twenty minutes they passed the entrance of the subway nearest the _Planet_ that Paul would normally use and there was Sullivan, waiting. His father was unaware of this as he dropped Paul off at the front door of the _Planet_. "How"s that for time?" he asked.

Paul glanced at a clock on a street post. "Ten minutes earlier than usual." he answered dryly.

"Well, see you tonight," his father said as Paul closed the door and headed into the _Planet_. He hurried to Mr. White's office and told him about Sullivan.

White grabbed his phone and called the police. "This is Perry White of _The Daily Planet_. Is Bill Henderson in? Henderson, glad I caught you. One of my people has a problem." Over the next several minutes, White explained the situation. Henderson said that he'd have it looked into.

Mr. White told Bell to come and see him after lunch and he should know something then. Bell went to work, feeling a lot better than he had when he had arrived. As intense as putting the weekend edition together was, the Monday morning paper was light. Since there was no Sunday paper, swing shift had Saturdays off. Bell still had to work as did everyone else, but it was the lightest shift Bell had seen in the office. Most people took shorter lunches on Saturday because as soon as the paper was put to bed, everyone would get the rest of the afternoon off.

At lunch Jimmy and two other copy boys sat with Paul. They talked about sports, girls. movies, more girls and finally the war. That was a depressing thought so the other two boys started gossiping to Paul about who was who and what the rumor mill said about those people. Paul was in an awkward spot. Though he wasn't big on gossip, he did like the company. Then an idea struck.

"Hey, I gotta go to the bathroom before I get back to work," Paul said and as he rose to leave, one of the photographers, Adamson, came up to him.

"Hey Bell, Olsen, you won't have to worry about Broken Nose any more," he said.

"Oh really?" Bell said.

"Yeah. He got himself killed in an accident. last night" Adamson said.

"You're kidding!" Bell said

"Serious! You met Kelly, yet? Well he works down at the presses. His wife and Murphy's wife are friends. He told me about it just now," Adamson replied

"Golly, what happened to him?" Jimmy asked.

"He slipped on some ice and busted his head on the sidewalk too hard. Guy was a jerk," Adamson said.

Bell excused himself and went to see if White had any news. He found him with a plainclothes police officer named Inspector Henderson. The news wasn't particularly promising. An officer found Sullivan at the stop who denied waiting to do Bell harm. Since he wasn't doing anything illegal, the officer had to let him off with a warning that if anything happened to Bell, he'd be the prime suspect. Bell passed on Adamson's story of Murphy's untimely death.

"That is probably what pushed him to come looking for you. He knows about Murphy," White said.

"I am going to make sure that there is a police presence there for next week in he mornings but you might want to take another route for a couple days. If this Sullivan character is there on Monday, it has been made known to him that he will have some explaining to do," Henderson said.

"Thank you, sir, " Bell said.

"In the meantime, watch your back and keep adjusting how you arrive and don't leave alone," Mr. White instructed.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQQ

As soon as the paper was put to bed, most people other than the printers and other post production staff were free to go. Bell grabbed his camera and checked the film. An aspiring photographer wants to get every shot, after all. He went through the newsroom in search of Jimmy. A few reporters were working on stories but it was obvious that people were leaving for the weekend

Bell hurried to the front door and went out with about half a dozen staff that he didn't know and got on a bus that would take him in the opposite direction of Hobbs Bay and home.

About an hour later, Paul had to admit the scenic route did have an advantage. He was seeing a lot of the city that he had never seen The rain had stopped and the sky was clearing. He could see a lot of blue in the sky mixed with the gray clouds. He was at a bus stop that had a connection to take him to a stop near a subway that would take him home. Since it was an industrial area at an off time, there was no one else at the stop. There wasn't any traffic, either. Paul snorted. How often in a city of five million does one get a private bus stop?

His musings were drawn short by the sound of squealing tires from around the corner. He pulled out his camera. As he pointed the camera towards the sound. he saw a car come around the corner at a high rate of speed. Bell started shooting. To his shock, Superman swooped behind the car and picked it up. Bell kept shooting.

Superman turned the car on its side and put it on the ground, then he opened the door and pulled the driver out of the car. Dropping the driver on the ground, he levitated upside down for a second and lowered himself into the car upside down and came out with a briefcase.

Bell had to stop and reload his camera. As soon as he finished he rushed towards Superman and the person that he detained and started shooting again. "You do realize that is a diplomatic pouch?" the man said with a Japanese accent.

"It is a good thing, then that I am not a diplomat," Superman said and took out some documents and what looked like film. "Well, what do we have here? Plans for that new bomber prototype that is being built for the army,"

The spy sighed. "You know what will happen. I will be sent home and given another assignment. Someone else will get the plans, eventually. Now turn my car upright and I will be on my way."

"Hey kid, how would you like to get some shots of me marching a member of the Japanese Consulate into jail, caught red handed as a spy?" Superman asked.

"Absolutely," Bell said.

"You afraid of heights?" Superman asked.

Bell realized what he was asking. "I wouldn't be afraid to fly with you," he said.

"Good," Superman put Bell under one arm and he held the spy under he other. He firmly held the incriminating documents in the hand that was holding Bell. It was the most exhilarating experience of Bell's life He didn't get much of a view, though. The ferocity of the wind made him close his eyes. When Superman arrived at the Federal Building, he stopped for a second. before landing gently to the ground. For those few seconds. though tear filled eyes, Bell could look around. As Superman landed, he told Bell to get his camera ready.

Bell snapped a few shots and as soon as Superman took the spy inside. he put his camera away and started to hurry to the _Planet_. The Federal Building was only seven blocks from the _Planet_, on the same street, so it was a reasonably quick trip. The doors to the _Planet_ were still open and Bell hurried up to Mr. White's office with his camera.

Fortunately Mr. White hadn't left for the weekend. When he heard what Bell had, he exclaimed, "This warrants an extra edition!" He got on the phone and called the printing department and told them that they would be putting out an extra edition. The phone rang. It was Kent. He had the story and he'd be in in ten minutes to write it up. The few reporters left in the newsroom were drafted into helping put the extra edition together. Most of the pictures turned out very clear. The lead off photo was of Superman holding the spy's car in the air wth a headline of SUPERMAN CATCHES JAP SPY RED HANDED. Kent's article told about how the spy had been using his job as a consular official as an excuse for spying. It was an eight page extra. The other reporters there had enough articles to fill out the extra edition.

Kent advised that Bell not get the byline for his own safety. Mr. White agreed.

Bell felt betrayed. He was bringing the best shots and he wasn't getting credit for it! White and Kent could read the look on his face. "Bell the only reason that you are not getting the byline is that the Japs are very dangerous. You have embarrassed them. Nobody hates getting embarrassed worse than a Jap. I don't want them coming after you. I know that you're tired of hearing it, but you still are a kid. You are the luckiest kid that I have ever known, but you are a kid and I don't want you hurt." Mr. White said.

Bell could see that he wasn't going to win this one. "Yes sir," he said

"You might not have gotten the byline this time, but I think that you will get some more good bylines in the future. Between the work that you did for the Lazenby photos and what you did today, I think that seventy dollars is an appropriate bonus."

"Seventy dollars?" _a fortune!_ "Thank you sir!"

I thought you might like that. Let's get this out tonight."

"Paul glanced at the calendar, December 6, 1941. "Well, I have to admit, after today, it should be a quiet weekend."


	7. Sunday

When Paul woke up, the first thing he did was go to the restroom to find it occupied with the sound of running water. His mother came out in her bathrobe and before he could get in, his sister beat him to the punch, starting the shower. He didn't need a shower. He had taken one the previous night, but he did need to go! He went into the kitchen to see his mother putting a ham in the oven. He could see three pies that his mother had made the previous day for their guests.

There was some oatmeal on the stove. While Paul sat down to breakfast, his mother went to dress. Finally his sister got out of the restroom just as his brother rushed in. Paul banged his hand on the table in frustration.

Forty-five minutes later, the Bells left for church. Everyone was wearing long coats as much to protect their clothes as much as themselves. Paul's mother and sister were wearing dark colored winter dresses, with galoshes over their shoes. Paul, his father and brother were all wearing suits. Paul loved God and loved going to church, but he hated wearing a suit every week! His dad insisted, though, so he wore a suit.

Not everyone at church wore suits though, After all, America was coming out of the Depression. Pastor Deng went to great lengths, on a repeated basis, to remind people that God didn't expect a poor man to dress as a rich man.

Though there were cars in the parking lot, about thirty people were walking up to the church from a nearby bus stop. As Paul got out of the car, two boys Paul's age came up. Nick Wong and Andy Akers were old friends. He had known Nick since the Wongs had moved to Metropolis from Mississippi just before the fifth grade.

Andy, like Paul was Anglo-Burmese. Mr. Pang had hired Andy's father when Andy was three. They had gone to first grade together. In early elementary school they had been best friends and if they both stayed in Chinatown and kept going to the same church, they would on some level stay friends, but at seventeen, they were too young to realize that they had already started drifting apart.

That didn't mean that they weren't still able to have fun with each other.

"Well, well, well. Here comes Chinatown's newest celebrity," Nick teased.

"How's the rarefied air, visiting with both Mr. Pang and getting to talk to Superman after he saves you from getting brained in the same week," Andy added. "Hey Connor, how fat has his head gotten oven the last few days?"

"He can barely get it through the front door," Connor joined in the teasing.

"Hey Andy, we have a duty of love and charity to perform for our dear brother here," Nick said as he moved behind Paul.

"Oh, really?" Andy said as he approached Paul from the front.

"We need to squeeze some of the hot air out of his head so he can get in the door!" With that Nick grabbed him from behind as Andy did likewise from the front to the sound of Mr Bell saying sternly not to take him to the ground because he didn't want the slacks ruined.

After a couple of seconds Nick got Paul in a headlock and started to squeeze. "Is that enough?" he called out.

"A little more," Conner called out, laughing. Mr. Bell was shaking his head. Mrs. Bell was wondering how long Mr. Bell would allow this to continue. Several, of the children who had walked from the bus stop were laughing. Most of the adults were smiling, because everyone knew that this was in fun. A few had some strange looks on their faces, though.

A couple of seconds later, Andy said. "I think that his head has shrunk enough."

Nick said, "Yeah, I suppose." He let Paul go.

Paul slugged each of the boys in the arm, with, "You jerks!" then he laughed. The three boys headed towards the door together. As everyone entered the building, most people went downstairs. Connor and Beth saw friends and went off to talk with them, while Paul, Andy and Nick got in line for coffee. Adults and kids both starting calling out compliments and congratulating Paul for his work on the Chinatown article and on the Lazenby pictures over the last week.

The idea of getting this kind of praise had never entered Paul's mind. He didn't realize that pretty much everyone had read the weekend edition's articles on Chinatown.

Paul glanced into the window of a closed door. The church offered a free English class to any foreigners who wanted to come on Sunday morning before church. Today, the class looked full. There were even some Whites there, which no one from the church minded . Some people who attended that class were regulars and some dropped in once in a while. There was no requirement that attendees stay for worship service. Some did. Some didn't. One of the few elders that did speak one of the Chinese dialects, taught the class.

Paul went into his own classroom and his heart skipped a beat. There she was. Donna Lake, the girl that he had a case for. Donna was originally from Boston. She was one of the mixed race foundlings who didn't know her ethnic background that he had mentioned to Lois Lane. When the Chinatown orphanage had been opened, she had been transferred. Now, twenty, she worked as a receptionist in an office somewhere.

She was sitting next to a Chinese American woman in her early thirties that Paul barely knew, a Mrs. Huang whose family had just come from Mississippi last summer. They were in an animated conversation, so Paul went and sat a couple of rows behind her where he could watch her unobtrusively.

Nick sat next to him and Andy sat next to Nick and leaned over him to ask Paul quietly, "When are you going to tell her that you like her?"

"As soon as I get a car," Paul answered quietly.

His friends nodded, knowing that this wasn't something to joke about. Paul looked around, after all, he didn't want to stare at her.

Changing the subject, Andy asked him. "You think that you will get to play baseball with us, next season?"

"I don't know yet. I hope so," he answered.

After the class ended and before the worship service began, he got a lot more praise for his work that week. There was only one piece of praise that stood out though: Donna came up and said that she really liked his pictures of the racketeer being caught. He didn't hear too much of the sermon that day because he was thinking about the fact that _Donna liked his work!_

After church, the Bells went home. Paul quickly changed inot more comfortable clothing. A few minutes later, Paul and his father went to collect the Olsens. It took almost forty minutes to get to the Olsen's and an equal time to get home. By the time they arrived, Lois was already there.

After dinner, Paul brought out his new camera. He and Jimmy worked out the proper lighting and set the camera up. complete with tripod. to break in the new equipment. After taking two rolls of photos of various group shots, Paul put the camera away when the phone rang. Mrs. Bell answered it.

"Paul, Lois, Jimmy, it's a call for all three of you. It is your boss, Mr. White," she said.

Lois got very serious. "Mr. White wouldn't call on Sunday unless it were an emergency," she said. Like Wednesday night, she held the phone away from her ear, only this time there were three people listening, with Paul's and Jimmy's parents as close as possible.

"Talk loudly, Chief! We are all listening!" Lois said.

"Lois I want you and Bell to stay in Chinatown tonight and report what is happening there! I have Kent and other reporters covering everything else! Call in at least twice tonight and let us know that you are okay. I'm glad that I overheard that you and Olsen would be at Bell's for dinner! And Bell?" White said.

"Yes, sir!" Bell said.

"I want you to stay in Chinatown for the next few days. I don't think that it is safe for you to come in to the office right now! For the next few days, you are my reporter and photographer assigned to Chinatown. Call in at least once a day with something. Got it?" White thundered.

"I understand the instructions, but what happened?" Paul said.

"The Japs bombed our fleet at a place in Hawaii called Pearl Harbor." White said.

Mrs. Bell gasped as Mr. Bell indicated that he wanted the phone. Lois handed it to him, "Mr. White I am Paul's father. We have family there. Has Honolulu been bombed? Are the islands being invaded as we speak?" He listened for a moment. "All right. Thank you for your honesty. Do you need to speak with anyone?" He listened for another few seconds. "I will pass it on." He hung up the phone.

"In addition to what he already said, he wants Jimmy to come in at the regular time tomorrow. He said the evening shift has been called in to handle the extra edition for tomorrow. It is getting dark, I should probably start taking you folks home," Mr. Bell said

"Maybe that might not be such a good idea. Forgive me for saying it his way, but even though you look more White than not, it might be a lot safer for you if we just took the subway. Anyone with Asian features will be a target," Mrs Olsen said.

"How about dropping them off at Peterson Station? They just finished the link there to Burke Station," Connor suggested. Burke Station was a central connection point in the part of town that the Olsens lived in.

"That would be fine," Mrs Olsen said. "We have monthly passes. We can get home. You have been wonderful hosts, but it is probably getting to be that time."

Paul knew that he was about to have a fight but,"Miss Lane and I will drive you."

"You are not leaving this house, young man!" he mother shouted.

"You will be a lot more secure if Dad's here than me and you didn't raise me to cower in my bedroom while women that I am concerned about are out in the streets alone when it is not a good idea to be alone!" Paul answered with his voice getting louder with each word. "I'm not leaving Chinatown. If there is something bad coming, I can call you and give some warning!"

"No!" she said.

"Yes," his father said softly.

His wife spun on him. "What?" she shouted.

"He's right." his father said

"They could spend the night!" she countered.

Mr. Bell went into the bedroom that he shared with his wife. A few seconds later, he emerged with a very large knife in a sheath. He handed it to Paul and told him to keep it in his galoshes, out of sight. "You call home if you see any sign of trouble. Be at church no later than seven. If we are separated, we will contact you at the _Planet_."

Seeing that her husband had made up his mind, Mrs. Bell turned on Lois. "Don't you DARE get my boy killed," she said menacingly. "It is bad enough that my parents and sisters and their families could be dead right now and now you are taking my boy into harm's way."

Lois was about to say something when Connor spoke up, "Mom, you always said, blessed are the meek, not blessed are the cowards. You know it's the right thing to do. Miss Lane's got to do the job. Paul knows his way round Chinatown. He can help her lose anyone that would come to Chinatown to cause trouble. Besides, he's almost as smart as me,"

"Thanks, I think," Paul said.

Nothing was said for maybe thirty seconds. Mrs. Bell walked up to Paul and hugged him tightly. "You be careful," she said into his ear.

"I will be," he said.

"You know," she said as she stepped away from him. "I know that eventually, you two boys will be in this war. I had better get used to he fact that danger is really going to be part of your lives in the near future and quit acting the coward myself."

Mrs. Olsen went up to Mrs. Bell and said, "Everyone has a panic moment. Cowardice is when you won't let go of that panic moment. Jimmy is in the same boat as your boys. We will just have to get through this together." The two women embraced.

Mrs. Bell went to Lois. "I apologize for hissing at you. I know that you would never deliberately get Paul hurt."

"It's like Jimmy's mother said, we will have to get through this together," Lois answered. The two women embraced.

"It's time to go to work," Paul said. He went into his bedroom and got his old camera and made sure there was film and fresh flashes. He'd prefer to use the new camera, but he knew that this was too big to trust to equipment that he still wasn't used to.

As they drove to the subway station, the streets were quiet. Too quiet. There was some traffic, but nowhere near the normal amount on a December Sunday afternoon. He took a couple of shots of the quiet streets while there was some daylight left. Would there be riots in the darkness? After they dropped off the Olsens, Lois asked," So where do you think we should start?"

"Well," Paul said, slowly. "Mr. Kent and the other reporters will be interviewing the Governor and the Mayor and all of the relevant government people. We are here for a local angle. We should go to the local precinct house at some point, for a local police statement. I know a few of the officers from my _Gazette_ days. Maybe that might help."

"Now you are starting to think like a reporter. Good. Where else should we go," she asked.

At that point Bell realized that Lane was trying to teach him something. She was giving him a lesson on how to be an investigative reporter. He had an idea. "You know, one of the things in our Chinatown article was about the orphanage. We should go there and check on the Jap um Japanese American kids."

"Good idea. Let's start there. Why did you shift from Jap to Japanese?" she asked.

He explained about his meeting with the Yamamotos on Friday night.

"Hmm. Not a bad thing to keep in mind when we are dealing with the orphans. Not that I'm going to stop using the word, but it is good to know when not to use it," she said.

"Use it as a noun, not as a club," Paul added.

"That is an interesting way to put it," Lois said.

"Yeah, I just thought of it," Paul said.

"You really have the makings of a decent reporter, Paul. Mr. Pang was right. You do have potential," she said as she pulled out onto the street.

As the made their way towards the orphanage, they passed a church. "Let's stop there," Bell said.

"Why," Lois turned to circle the block.

"It is the Roman Catholic Church in Chinatown. Ever since I can remember, it has always had a lot of refugees in its congregation. I bet the priest would have some insights," Paul answered.

"What is the name of the priest?" she asked.

"I think that it is Father Kessler," he answered.

"That explains the car," she said as she was about half way around the block.

"What car?" he asked as they found a parking spot three quarters around the block.

"The car that is occupied by the two White men in business suits that are watching the church." Lane said.

"Who do you think that they are?" he asked.

"Law enforcement of some sort, probably FBI," she answered.

"What should we do?" Paul asked.

"We go interview the priest without mentioning the FBI. Remember, we don't know this man. He could be a good man or not. A good journalist should try to balance the public's right to know with the police's need to be able to do their jobs. Besides, knowing how to keep quiet can engender goodwill with the FBI," she said, getting out of the car.

The church was about half full. Paul realized that he should have looked on the marquee outside to see whether or not this was a normal service time. They stood at the back for a couple of minutes before a middle aged White man in a priest's uniform approached them. "Something tells me that you are not here to attend Mass. Can I help you?"

"My name is Lois Lane and this is Paul Bell. We are from _The Daily Planet_ and we trying to get local reaction concerning the attack. Since a lot of your parishioners are from the war torn areas, we thought that this would be a good place to come to for a refugee opinion."

The priest shook his head. "Most of them are too scared to be interviewed right now. This has not been told in confession, so I can give you a general overview of what they are saying. Most are afraid of the war. They are afraid of what will happen to them if we lose. Most barely escaped the Japanese the first time. A few are looking forward to signing up because they want some payback. That pretty much sums it up," the priest answered.

"You're Father Kessler?" Lois asked.

"Father Juergen Kessler," he replied.

"How do you like working in Chinatown?" Lois asked.

"I love it. My parents emigrated from Germany when I was four. When I started school, I think that I knew ten English words. I naturalized as an adult. In a way, working here is just as much getting back to my roots as anywhere else that I work. I split most of my time between here and a German speaking parish across town." he said.

"At some point in the near future, I'd like to sit down and talk about the German American community with you," Lois said. A little girl came up to them and smiled at Father Kessler and the little girl went and sat in a pew.

"Certainly," he said and gave Lois his contact information.

As the left the church, they could see the car with the White men in the same place. "I wonder if they really are watching Father Kessler," Bell said.

"I'm going to follow up on that tomorrow," she replied as they went around the corner to the car.

"Let me know what you find out," Bell said.

As they continued on to the orphanage, the streets continued to be quiet. Paul had Lois stop at a gas station to call the folks to tell them that all was really quiet on the street. That should help his mom's peace of mind. Lois called the _Planet_ with an update, while they were there.

As they entered the orphanage, they heard the sounds of food preparation from the right. Obviously, someone was preparing supper for the kids. There were children sitting in a day room that could be seen from the front door. On the other side of the day room they could see part of a dining room. In the day room, there were about twenty kids aged from about six to ten. They were playing dominoes, cards, or checkers. One of the older girls was looking through a magazine. A few of the younger children were coloring. There were a few who were brooding. It didn't take much imagination to guess what was on their minds.

They found the office to the left. An administrator was there, a tall, woman in her late fifties named Mrs. Choi. Mrs. Choi did not have a Southern accent which Lois asked about.

"My husband and I are from Hawaii. We couldn't have children so we have been working with orphanages for some time. When this job came open it was really a good fit of both of us." the woman said. "What can I do for you?"

Lois explained why they were there. "How are the Japanese American kids doing?"

Mrs. Choi smiled. "At least you knew not to call them Japs. We are serving the kids dinner in a few minutes, so I don't have much time. The FBI was here and talk to the oldest three of the kids for two or three minutes each."

"Really?" Lois asked.

"The agents had enough sense to know that a fifteen year old girl, a thirteen year old girl and a twelve year old boy aren't security threats. The rest of the Japanese kids are ten and under. There is a lot of uncertainty and fear. I imagine that we will have a lot of bed wetting tonight. I have had to break up two fights so far. I haven't had the chance to talk to the kids yet," Mrs. Choi answered.

They were interrupted by the sound of a boy yelling, "Rotten Jap!" and the sound of a tussle.

"Make that, three," Mrs Choi said as the three of them hurried into the hall to the sound of "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" chanted by children. One boy of about nine or ten was on a smaller boy. who was trying to fight back.

Before the adults could get there, a third boy blindsided the attacker and they fell into a pile of fists until Bell and Mrs. Choi pulled them apart. The boy who had been wailing on the smaller boy wasn't done. turning towards the third boy, he said, "Jump me from behind like the rest of your Jap buddies, will ya?"

"You rat! You jumped Mitch and he's two years younger than you and lots smaller. He didn't cry either!" the other boy said.

Paul was holding the one who started it against the wall while Mrs. Choi was keeping the other one under control. The smallest boy was getting up. He was going to have a black eye by morning.

Paul looked at the boy. "Do you think that beating up that little kid is going to help at Pearl Harbor?" he asked rather forcefully.

The other boy muttered something under his breath.

"Did you have something to say?" Paul said.

The boy remained silent.

"Answer the man, Dean," Mrs. Choi demanded.

Dean said something in Chinese. The children who understood him either snickered or gasped.

"I don't speak that dialect, young man," Mrs. Choi said sternly.

After a second Dean said, "You're probably just a half breed Jap grownup looking out for your own people."

As Paul started to chuckle at that, Mrs. Choi demanded an apology. Paul raised his hand, to silence her. "Let me," he said.

"Your name is Dean? Well Dean, I've had bigger people than you say far worse things to me than that. I'm not Japanese. I'm not Chinese, either. It doesn't matter what I am. What matters is what you are. You think that it is patriotic to beat up kids who didn't do anything wrong. That's what Nazi kids do."

"But he's a Jap!"

"So what? The FBI came here and they didn't arrest him! You know why? Because, they knew he didn't do anything wrong! Do you think you know more than the FBI?" Paul asked. When the boy didn't answer, he turned to the children who were watching. "Do you kids think that he knows more than the FBI?"

Everyone shouted NO!

"If the FBI didn't arrest any of the kids, that means that they are all innocent right?" The NO was less enthusiastic so Paul took another approach. "Think about it; when the Jap generals and admirals were planning the attack, do you honestly think that one of them said, 'lets ask our spy at the orphanage what he thinks.' Their spies work at the Consulate. In fact," he thought of something. "I helped Superman arrest a Jap spy just yesterday! My pictures of it were in the paper!"

When he mentioned Superman, he knew that he had them. "I'm 100% positive, that there are no Jap spies here! If you are beating up the kids with Jap names, you are only hurting people that you now know are innocent. So is everybody going to be nice to everybody now?" The YES was far more enthusiastic.

Paul looked over to Mrs. Choi, "That should cut down your fights for a while."

"We probably should be going. Mr. Bell will check in and see how you are doing in a couple of days," Lois said. As they walked towards the door, Lois asked, "I noticed that some of the kids understood that boy. Do a lot of the children speak Chinese?"

"Quite a few do, but you have to remember that there is more than one dialect. Dean speaks a different dialect than I do. There are a couple of kids who speak the same dialect that I do that will talk with me in Chinese. They like me to speak with them in Chinese because that was the language that their mothers spoke to them in. As long as they know how to speak English I certainly don't mind accommodating them." Mrs. Choi said.

She continued, "Mr. Pang hired other staff that will do the same. Most of our staff are from the west coast or Hawaii. The kid that started the fight, Dean, there are a couple of staff members who speak that dialect of Chinese and those kids who speak that dialect speak with them. There are a couple of other Chinese dialects spoken here as well. The sad case was that we had a nice older Japanese American couple who didn't have children that worked here and they were killed in an automobile accident last October. That really hit all of the kids hard, not just the Japanese Americans. For a lot of them, it was like losing their parents all over again. Now we are at war with Japan. Mr. Bell, you bought me some time and I thank you for that, but we are in for a long haul."

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As they drove towards the police station the streets were pretty empty and the sky was totally dark, but they were seeing more patrol cars on the street. The went to the precinct house. In the lobby, there was quite a bit of activity. Several desks were occupied by policemen who were typing or interviewing witnesses or suspects. Bell recognized one of the young men being interviewed. He had graduated high school, a year before Bell. The young man had also been in and out of trouble when he had been in school. It looked as though that had not changed.

At the Sergeant's desk, there were several reporters present. Bell and Lane went up and asked what was going on. One of the reporters said that his editor sent him down to Chinatown just in case there was a riot. The man sounded like he hoped there would be one so he could have a big story.

Another reporter, his press badge indicated that he was from a Yiddish language newspaper in Metropolis, looked at the first reporter with disgust and said, "You act like a riot would be a good thing! Your job is reporter, not ghoul!" he said.

"You have to admit, though, that's why we were all sent here," another reporter said.

"Perry White did not send us down here for that reason. We just happened to be in Chinatown when we heard about Pearl Harbor. Mr. Bell here and I came in here for local reaction," Lois said.

"You're Paul Bell, that reporter who scooped those clowns at Harbor?" a Negro reporter asked. When Bell nodded, the reporter stuck out his hand. "Name's Jones, Saul Jones. _Kensington Times. _When Sloane told me about it, that made my day."

Bell shook the man's hand. "I can just imagine what he would say. I'm kind of surprised that he said anything at all."

"Nah." _The Daily Star_ reporter butted in. "Sloane is a no-holds-barred type of reporter. He'll stab you in the back for a scoop but if you beat him, he will admit it. I scooped him, once. Thought he'd be sore about it, but he said if he couldn't admit he had been scooped, it would hurt his credibility."

The other reporters introduced themselves. It was different here than it had been on Wednesday. On Wednesday, he was the new Asian guy, fresh meat fit only to be fed on by the sharks. Now that he had proven that he had some teeth, he was tacitly acknowledged as a member of the press. A few of the reporters didn't like him because of his race and it wasn't hard to tell which ones, but the others were, if not too friendly, they were respectful.

Lane talked shop with the other reporters. Bell could tell that she knew quite a few of them. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see how she questioned men, how she could get even experienced reporters to open up. One of the Italian American reporters from the largest Italian language newspaper in Metropolis had told Lane that he had heard that the FBI was arresting Italians, Germans and Americans from those ethnicities within the city. He didn't know if the rumor was true. A German language reporter had heard the same rumor.

The police sent out a spokesman to give a statement. He was a man that Paul had met on occasion who told them that the authorities had stepped up patrols in Chinatown just in case somebody wanted to start trouble. He told them that the industrial areas that were related to defense were getting the greatest coverage, even Mr. Pang's property. Most of the reporters headed to the phone booths to call in the story. Bell asked if they should do the same and Lane told him that it could wait until they checked in with Bell's parents.

Since it was after six. they started towards the Bell's church. Not surprisingly, the parking lot was full when they arrived. When the entered the church. they could see that most of the pews were full. Though they saw the Bell's car in the parking lot, it took a couple of minutes to find Paul's parents.

Mrs. Bell quickly got up from the pew and hurried to the aisle and embraced them both. She tried to pull them into the pew, but Lois told her that they needed to check in before they could join the service. They wanted to ease Mrs. Bell's mind first. The office door was locked so Paul suggested using the phone in the kitchen. The phone was being used by someone. Lois asked what was down the hall.

"Classrooms, wanna see them?" he asked.

"Sure. Paul the trick about being an investigative reporter is that you should investigate everything from the mundane to the exciting. You never know where a lead will come from," Lois said. They quietly looked in a couple of rooms. As they approached a final room, the could hear voices. The door was slightly ajar.

They could hear a young man say,"Why won't you marry us! You know that I'll be drafted soon and we want to spend as much time together as we can before then!"

Lois indicated that they should be quiet. They listened.

"Because it is a lot harder being separated from a wife than a sweetheart," Pastor Deng answered. "Look, you are not the first couple that I have had this conversation with, today. I doubt you will be the last. Delton, I know that you love her. I think that you will make a good husband for her. but what if you two get married and she gets pregnant? Contraceptives aren't that good. It can happen. You will spend almost every day of that pregnancy away from her. She won't be alone. Your mother wouldn't allow that, but you won't be there.

This is not going to be a quick war like the Spanish American War. This is going to be like the Great War. That was four years! Do you want to come home to a little kid that you don't know? You know that two of my daughters are married. They aren't going to have a choice about this. My granddaughter is likely to spend quite a while without her daddy. I'm trying to protect your future children from that."

A woman's voice answered," What if he dies?" she sobbed. When he heard that voice, Paul's heart went into his throat in denial.

"Donna, I know that you grew up an orphan. I know that you want a family. If you wait and he dies, then that family wasn't meant to be with him. Delton, do you want her raising your child alone? Do you want your child to maybe be raised by a stepfather?" Deng pressed.

After a moment, Delton said, "No."

Softer, Deng said, "I know that this is hard. I wish that I could say it will get easier, but it won't, not for a long time. We just have to trust God here."

After a minute, Lois quietly pulled Paul into a darkened classroom but she didn't close the door. They stood in the dark, out of sight, as Deng and the young couple exited their room. Deng asked, "Are you two going to behave?"

The young man said in a rather dejected voice, " Yeah, we will."

The started to walk away when Donna looked at Deng and asked. "Was that couple Gary and Peg?"

"No, but I expect that I will hear from them soon," Deng answered. The three walked away. After they had gone out of earshot, Lois looked at Paul's face and in the dim light from the hall saw tears in his eyes.

"You're sweet on her," she deduced.

He nodded, wiping away tears. "Yeah, The guy..the guy. Delton...he's Sonny's older brother. You remember Sonny from the dinner?" She nodded.

They waited a minute until Paul had composed himself, then they went into the hall to find Paster Deng waiting at the end of it with his arms crossed. Before Lois or Paul could say anything, Deng said, "Normally, I don't allow people to listen in to a counseling session, but I had heard Paul's voice in the hall and I knew that he needed to hear that. Paul, I am sorry, but she has always had eyes for Delton. As for you," he pointed his finger at Lois. "Don't you ever do that again!" He turned and walked away.

After he had left, Lois said,"Oops."

"Yeah. Oops," Paul responded.

The phone was available so they checked in. White told them that here would be blackout restrictions starting soon. An order had been put out that all Ham Radio activity was to cease at midnight in every time zone. There was little news out of Hawaii, yet.

"You know, I was going to use the bonus to learn to drive and maybe get a used car, or at least have a lot of money saved up for one and then I was going to ask her out as soon as I got it." Paul said.

"If I were you, I'd still learn to drive. It would be a good career move. You want to take a minute, before you come back up?" Lois asked gently.

"Yeah," he answered.

Lois nodded and went upstairs. About five minutes later, he did likewise. As he came to the top of the stairs the front door to the church opened and Mrs. Yamamoto entered with her children. They all looked scared. When she saw Paul she tried to smile, but it was obviously forced

"Hello, Paul. Umm, could we talk somewhere?" she asked tentatively.

"Uh, sure," he answered. Nick had just come out of the restroom and had stopped to hear the exchange. Paul asked him to have Pastor Deng and his wife to come to the classrooms. Nick nodded and went to get them as Paul showed the Yamamotos downstairs.

"Would you care for some coffee?" Paul asked. She gratefully accepted it. Pastor Deng and his wife came down as he was getting the kids something to drink.

"Mrs. Yamamoto, this is my pastor, Clifford Deng and his wife, Ethel. This is Laura Yamamoto and the kids are.." he stopped for a second to remember, 'Lucy, Liz, one of you is Archie and one of you is Ray, but I don't remember which is which."

One of the boys piped up, "I'm Archie!" Ray was very subdued as were the girls.

"We do have a play room for the kids if you would like to speak in private," Mrs. Deng offered.

"Girls would you keep an eye on your little brothers while I talk with these nice people," she said. The children were shown into the preschool classroom. The adults, including Paul, went into the classroom across the hall from it. and closed the door. All of the classrooms had windows so Mrs. Yamamoto could look at the the other room if she wanted to.

"Where is Mr. Yamamoto?" Paul asked gently. This woman's obvious distress forced him to compartmentalize his own grief.

Mrs. Yamamoto pulled her purse onto her lap and pulled out a cigarette. Mr. Deng pulled out his lighter and lit her up. After a couple of drags, she began to sob. "They arrested him! The..the FBI came to our home and said they needed to ask him some questions! I tried to call my family in Los Angeles but the lines were all busy. Then.. then somebody threw a rock through our front window! He screamed vile things and ran off! I grabbed a metal fire poker for defense if he came back. Why would somebody do that! How could someone know that my husband was arrested? I don't even know what he was arrested for!

I tried to call my family. Did I say that already? We don't have any friends here in Metropolis. Paul invited us here and he's the closest thing to a friend that I have and I didn't know where else to go and I couldn't stay there with the children and uh I.." at this point she lost it.

The other three looked at each other for a couple of seconds before Pastor Deng said, "Mrs. Yamamoto, we are not going to turn you away."

"We're glad that you came here," Mrs. Deng said

"It's not your fault for what happened," Paul said.

"What happened?" she cried.

"You haven't heard about Pearl Harbor?" Paul asked.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It is a major Pacific naval base in Hawaii. The Japanese bombed it this morning," Paul said.

Mrs. Yamamoto gasped and put her hands to her mouth. "Are they invading Hawaii?" she asked.

"Not that I have heard and I have been listening to news all afternoon." Pastor Deng answered.

"You don't think that the FBI thinks that Richard was in on it? Of course they think so, We're Japanese Americans! But he is innocent!" she wailed.

"The FBI isn't just arresting Japanese Americans. They are investigating German Americans, too. Earlier tonight, we saw, that is my coworker and I saw, two men that she is sure were FBI outside the Roman Catholic Church. The priest is a German American. I bet they talked with him right after Mass. Maybe they arrested him, too," Paul said.

"What am I going to do? How long will they keep him? When he gets out, will he be fired?" she started crying.

Paul felt weird. He wanted to fix this for her, bad. There wasn't much he could do. He reached over and patted her hand, to which she grabbed onto it with both of her hands, with a vice-like grip. He looked over to the Dengs who were indicating that he shouldn't worry about it and go along.

"After a couple of minutes her grip released. She said, "I'm sorry to dump this onto you. You barely know me and you certainly don't owe me."

"Mrs. Yamamoto, Laura, we want to help you," Mrs Deng said.

"Tonight, you are welcome to spend the night at our home. We will help you fix your window, tomorrow and we'll see what tomorrow brings." Pastor Deng said.

"Thank you," she said. The relief as palpable. Paul could tell that she was truly afraid that she and her kids would be turned away.

The sermon that night was on how to love your enemies when you are at war with them. When Paul went to sit with his family, his father had asked him what took so long. He glanced at Lois as he sat next to her. She hadn't said anything about Donna. Paul said that something came up and he'd explain later. The Yamamotos sat with Mrs. Deng.

After the service, Paul told Lois what happened and sent the roll of film that he had shot back with the girl reporter for development and he went home with his family. In the car, he described how the evening had gone, (deleting the details about Donna). When they got into the house, he told them about the Yamamotos.

"You're sure that her husband isn't a Fifth Columnist?" Connor asked as everyone sat down to finish off the leftover pie from earlier.

"Jap spies would be at the Consulate. I guess it's possible that Mr. Yamamoto could be involved, but I don't know what a foreign language teacher could do. It's not like he works at a plant that he could sabotage. Even if he is, do we throw his wife and children to the wolves?" Paul asked.

"Clifford is right. We have to take it one day at a time," Mr. Bell said. "Since you're not leaving Chinatown, what do you plan to do tomorrow, Paul?"

"Well, I suppose that I should go get a statement from the local precinct house. Stop by the hospital and the fire department and get some man on the street opinions, both from Americans, Asian _and_ Negro and from refugees. Maybe I can play the article as one of the two American communities in the Foreign Section of Metropolis,"

"Just stay in Chinatown and stay out of trouble," Mr Bell said.

"Are you going to go in tomorrow?" Paul asked.

"No. there isn't anything that I really need to do until Tuesday. Not that I couldn't do a lot of work, but Mr. Pang will understand my caution." his father answered. Mrs. Bell was obviously relieved at the answer. "I'll give you kids a ride to school tomorrow," Mr. Bell said to Connor and Beth.

"If they don't cancel classes, tomorrow," Beth replied.

"We'll check the news in the morning, but don't count on a free day. Everybody start for bed. Paul, help me wash these dishes. It's been a long day and tomorrow doesn't look like it will be any shorter," Mr. Bell said.

_Author's Note: This website allows an author to see what countries the readership of their stories come from. I have a fair percentage of non American readers. Some of my historical notes are for them as much as for anyone else._

_I like listening to the old Adventures of Superman radio shows from the forties. In one of the stories there is a reference to The Foreign Section of Metropolis. Lois Lane was often times referred to as a girl reporter.  
_

_I will probably come back and flesh it out some more, so if you have enjoyed this, reread it from time to time. I wish to formally thank Donna Halpern for her invaluable assistance with this story. Google her name. she is a gold mine when it comes to media history of this era._

_If anyone reading this, knows how to get in touch with the daughter of Joan Alexander, the original actress who played Lois Lane, please give her my regards because I was thinking about her mother as I wrote this story._

_Historical note;_

_On December 7__th__ 1941 the FBI began to arrest for interrogation and internment purposes people of German, Japanese and Italian descent. Some were American citizens and some were citizens of Axis countries who had immigrated. The initial Master List of those to be immediately arrested was determined as early as 1939. Some of those people, and their children American born and not, spent the entire war incarcerated. This is IN ADDITION to the events tied to Executive order 9066. which lead to the incarceration of about 111,000 of the 270,000 Japanese and Japanese Americans living in the United States. This number does not include the numbers of Germans, German Americans, Italians, and Italian Americans who were interned. The United States during this time, got South American countries, especially Peru, Equador, Colombia and Panama to deport many of their own citizens of German, Italian and Japanese ancestry to the United States and they were promptly interned at Crystal City Texas and Seagoville Texas Internment Camps, among other places, ostensibly as illegal aliens. The U.S. Government under FDR wanted these innocent people interned, pure and simple. From what I have read, Crystal City had an American population as well as those from South America. Please google Crystal City Internment Camp and Seagoville Internment Camp for more details of this part of American History that most Americans don't even know. The foitimes__.com__ is a website developed by a German American who was interned as a child. _

_Don't get me wrong. I don't begrudge Japanese Americans wanting to ensure what happened isn't forgotten. I just believe that the whole story of the internment should be told, not just the Japanese American part. All of the statues and history books concerning this need to be adjusted to tell the whole story  
_


	8. Changes

"Hey, Bell! It's Christmas Eve! Get out of here!" Lawley commanded.

"Let me grab my coat and I'm gone. Merry Christmas!" Bell responded.

"Merry Christmas, kid," Lawley said.

As soon as Bell had his coat, he was good to his word. He was out the door and onto the streets. The day shift had been required to stay a little late for the last couple of days to help the swing shift get the Christmas Eve, edition, the Christmas morning edition and the day after Christmas edition out so everyone could have Christmas off. There wouldn't be an evening edition for Christmas Day.

It was just after six and Bell was hoping that he could get to church on time. The subway wasn't as packed as it usually was. A lot of the offices knocked off early today if they had even opened at all. There were a few last minute shoppers. Bell had finished his shopping the previous Saturday night. A lot of the presents weren't for his family, though. Most of the presents that he had purchased had been for the Yamamoto children.

The day after Pearl Harbor, Pastor Deng and Pastor Rick Leslie of the Chinese Baptist Mission went with Mrs. Yamamoto to survey the damage. Leslie was a White minister who had been a missionary in China until forced to leave due to the arrival of the Japanese. Deng understood the need of Leslie's' presence. Too many Asians together outside Chinatown could cause a violent showdown. Americans were scared and today, any Asian face would be likely a target.

The house had been a disaster. It had been ransacked, anything of monetary value, taken. Most of the furniture had been broken up. While they were there, the owner of the house came by. He made it quite clear that he was going to break the lease and Mrs. Yamamoto needed to out of the house by week's end. The two men helped her pack as much as they could. Thankfully, most of the clothing was undamaged. A few personal items had survived. Leslie went and knocked on a few neighbors' doors and told them that when Mr. Yamamoto was released, he could contact his family through his friend Paul's church. If the events at the Yamamoto home weren't bad enough, when they went to the bank, Mrs. Yamamoto learned that her husband's bank accounts had been frozen. She had a separate account that had a whopping twenty-three dollars, which she withdrew.

When they returned to Chinatown, Mr. Leslie told Paul what had happened. He had said that neither he nor Pastor Deng wanted the neighbors to know exactly where the Yamamotos had gone for everyone's safety. That evening, the Bells came over and had dinner with the Dengs to get to know the Yamamotos. It was a full house.

Mrs. Yamamoto was putting up a brave front. It lasted until Paul's mother took her hand into her own and said, "Paul is right. The odds of you being a fifth columnist are astronomically against it. Obviously, we don't know anything about why the FBI chose to arrest your husband, but even if it turns out that he is guilty of something, we will still help you and your children."

Mrs. Yamamoto couldn't help it. She buried her face in her hands and started sobbing, which of course started to scare the children. It was at least five minutes before she was able to compose herself and it was several more minutes before the children were calmed down enough to continue the conversation.

"I don't know how to thank you. If it...if it weren't for you, we'd be sleeping in the car, tonight," Mrs. Yamamoto stammered.

Pastor Deng spoke up. "Paul told Ethel about you on Friday night. That is why we knew about who you were, yesterday. I don't know if you picked up on it, but I asked that the elders meet with me after service. The Board of Elders or Elders Board is what more Presbyterian churches call its leadership. I told them of your situation and we are in total agreement to help as much as we can. We will have to run interference with a few church members who will disagree with this decision, but as long as nothing illegal is involved, we will do what we can."

Tears were in Mrs. Yamamoto's eyes as she whispered, "Thank you." She looked at Paul. "I don't know where I'd be if we hadn't met you. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it is true."

Paul blushed. When he had been a little younger he'd fantasized about saving the damsel in distress. Having a hand in actually doing it and seeing the absolute gratitude from a woman made him very uncomfortable.

His father picked up on Paul's discomfort. "What did you do today, Paul?" he asked.

Glad for the change of subject, Paul answered, "Mr. White did say that he wanted some articles, but I had never actually written an article, so I went over and spoke with my old editor and asked for advice. He helped me get in three stories and gave me some advice on finding stories. He made a phone call and I can go for a walk with a couple of beat cops that he knows tomorrow as long as I don't get in the way."

"Don't get in the way," his father said.

"Mr. Yamamoto isn't the only person that has been arrested," Paul said a little later over dessert. "Father Kessler was arrested, too. Father Ryu told me about it today, when I went over to the Roman Catholic Church. When I called in, I heard that the FBI arrested the Editor in Chief of an Italian language paper in Gotham City. The woman who told me about it said that foreign seamen are being arrested. It is going to take time to question everybody."

"But Daddy's an American!" Archie said.

"So is Father Kessler," Paul answered.

"So you are sure that it is not just Japanese Americans that are being arrested?" Mrs. Yamamoto asked.

"Yes ma'am," Paul answered. "German Americans are definitely being arrested and maybe Italian Americans are too. I don't know if that Italian in Gotham is an American or not."

Later that evening, everyone listened to a repeated broadcast of President Roosevelt's speech formally asking Congress for a Declaration of War against Japan.

The next afternoon. Bell met Adamson in the foyer at Bell's church. "Lawley said to meet you here. You got some shots, I hear. Why did you want to meet here? Couldn't you have brought them in?"

"Mr. White told me to stay in Chinatown for the time being. Besides, if the shots turn out, they will all be in the morning paper. Mr. White and Mr. Lawley will want them right away. The first shots are of a large truck hitting a bus. I came upon it just after it happened. Several dead and several injured. I interviewed two survivors. Called it in. One of the secretaries transcribed my story. Mr. Lawley said he'd send someone this afternoon for the pictures and I suggested here because I don't want to fight the other reporters for my pictures.

Later, I was doing a walk along with two beat cops when we came upon gun shots when we were walking by an apartment complex. They told me to wait outside. I went down the block and set up for a distance shot. Other cops showed up. Later, the cops brought a woman out of the building in handcuffs with blood on her clothes. I think that I got some good shots of her being put in a police car." Bell answered. He spoke in a detached, matter of fact voice.

"Who did she shoot?" Adamson asked.

"I need to get it confirmed, but I was told it was her boyfriend with his other girlfriend. From what I understand, he was two timing her and she found out about it and killed them both. Whether the other woman knew about it, we may never know. I gotta get that confirmed first before we publish it, but here are the pictures," Bell said and handed Adamson the film.

"What's the matter with you? Lawley will make sure that you get the byline. This could be fantastic stuff," Adamson said.

"Drop me off at the precinct house and I will see about getting a statement," Bell answered flatly.

Pastor Deng came out of his office as Adamson said with sudden realization. "This is the first time that you have covered a violent story, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so?" Bell said sullenly.

"Covering violent stories is harder than covering nonviolent stories. The violence affects the reporter, too. That is kind of why investigative reporters and cops have a love-hate relationship. We both stick out noses in other peoples' business and in so doing we both see the gory side of life. What you have seen should bother you a little bit. You would be a very dangerous person if it didn't. We have a ton of readers who get a thrill reading true crime from the privacy of their homes. That is one thing. It is another thing to see it up close. Only psychopaths aren't bothered by it up close," Adamson said.

A few seconds later Bell said. "On Sunday, I was at the local precinct house and there was this reporter who was hoping, and I mean hoping, that there would be a race riot in Chinatown so he could get a scoop. At the time, I was royally ticked off at him, but here I am, sending pictures of death and destruction to my paper. My career is going to benefit from this. I just wonder if this is the first step in me becoming like that jerk."

"I can't say that there aren't guys like him. He is in it for money only or he is simply a vampire, getting his thrills reporting on the destruction of others. I bet there were other reporters who looked down on him, right?"

"Nobody seemed to like him," Bell answered

"Reporting something is not the same thing as wanting it to happen," Pastor Deng said. "We will talk about this in more detail at some future time.'

"You his minister?" Adamson asked. When Deng nodded Adamson stuck out his hand. "Name's Adamson, Walt Adamson. I work for the _Planet_. Don't let this kid quit. He's got potential."

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_He's got potential_, the thought echoed in Paul's mind as he made the last connection to the bus that would take him to church. Mr. White had him come back into the office on Thursday. It had been an interesting ride into work. His father told him to say that he was an Indian if anyone asked if he was a Jap or more likely accused him of being one. He had to say it twice to a couple of hostile riders, but he got to work in one piece.

Both of the articles that had concerned him had made the front page of Section B, complete with photos and a byline in Wednesday's morning paper. On Wednesday, he had gotten a nice photo of a patriotic ceremony that made the evening paper as well.

Mr. White was very pleased. He gave him a promotion complete with a raise to part time cub reporter/photographer, part-time copy boy. He spent the rest of the week working with one of the more experienced photographers.

To say that the two and a half weeks since Pearl Harbor were interesting was an understatement. Mrs. Yamamoto was college educated. Pastor Deng was able to find her a job with a local company at the edge of Chinatown as an accountant. The boss asked her to try not to say her last name any more than she had to. Having the same last name as the main Admiral of the Imperial Japanese Navy was not a good thing in 1941 America.

She hated it, but she offered to go by the the Anglicized pronunciation of her maiden name, at work, which was Abe. It made instant points with the boss. Other than the boss, no one at the company knew that she was Japanese American.

Everyone was told that she was a Korean American from Hawaii. Since the company was made up of Chinese Americans and Negroes along with Whites from the Foreign Section of Metropolis, as long as she didn't let anything slip, she should be able to work there. If a Korean came along. she'd say that her parents died when she was young and she was raised in an orphanage and that was why she couldn't speak Korean. She would say that her husband had a hard to pronounce name and he was in the service so she used her maiden name. Flimsy, but it would have to do. No one though she could pass a Chinese American from LA just because so many of them spoke Chinese

When Paul got to church the place was packed. He saw a lot of people that he didn't recognize and some that he barely did. Some of the Whites who had been taking the English classes showed up. He wandered up and down the aisle. He found the Yamamotos sitting up with Mrs. Deng, near the front. He greeted them and then he decided that he might as well use the restroom before the service.

He went back to the foyer. He was surprised when he saw Lois Lane, there. He hadn't seen the girl reporter since Pearl Harbor. She had covered some pretty big stories herself since then. some of which involved Superman. "It's good to see you,' he said, taking one of her hands in both of his, warmly.

"Your mother invited me to come when I was at your home and I liked your mother and I needed a break so here I am," she said.

He saw Connor come out of the restroom, who took Lois with him to sit with the Bells. Paul went into the restroom and wondered if there would be a seat for him.

He said hi to a couple of kids he knew when he washed his hands and came out of the restroom in time to see Mr. Yamamoto walk into the church. Mr. Yamamoto looked apprehensive and he had lost weight. Paul smiled and walked up to him.

When he saw Paul smiling, relief washed over Mr. Yamamotos face. "Paul! It is nice to finally see a friendly face! I wasn't sure if this was the right church or not. Have you seen my family?"

"They're here. Right this way," Paul led the man down the aisle. The preservice organ music was playing. Since the service was overfilled there were people standing along the pews. They made their way to the front. Mrs. Deng happened to glance back and saw Paul and Mr. Yamamoto approaching. Paul nodded to her and she quietly got up and entered the aisle. Mr. Yamamoto saw what she intended, smiled, nodded to her and slipped into her seat. A second later everyone heard the squeals of surprise at the reunion in the pew.

A couple of elders made their way towards the Yamamotos just in case anyone wanted to make an issue. A young man in the row behind the Yamamotos gave up his seat for Mrs. Deng. Paul waited until the elders were in place and then went and squeezed in with his family, with his dad on one side and the wooden pew on the other, just as the music director took the podium to begin the service.

After the service there was the usual meet and greet in the fellowship hall. About half of the attendees stayed for it. Lois and Paul's mother were in an animated, happy conversation. Paul was pretty sure that his mother had a new friend in Lois. The Yamamotos were enjoying their reunion with cookies and punch. The girls were telling him how much they liked going to Lue Elementary much better than their old school. They asked if they could stay at that school.

"There is a good chance of that. You see, I was told that sometime in January I was going to be drafted," The mood of the wife and the girls suddenly changed from joyous to dismay. Though the boys were too young to understand what being drafted meant, they understood that their mother was unhappy.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey," Mr. Yamamoto began. "That's later. It's Christmas. Let's enjoy ourselves."

"Does Santa know we moved?" Ray asked.

The Yamamoto adults glanced at each other as Paul spoke up, "Oh yeah. Santa knows. I put in the change of address paperwork myself," he said looking at the parents.

"That's right. I helped him do it," Mrs. Deng said coming up behind them.

Mrs. Yamamoto put her head on her husband's shoulder. He said. "I don't know how we can thank you."

"I told you that my church was different. We hope that you keep coming here after all this is over, at least as long as you live in Metropolis." Paul said

"I don't know if we will ever believe as you do, but you can bet that we will keep coming, even after we get a new place to stay, as long as we are in Metropolis and I think that might be a while," Mr. Yamamoto said. "You really don't have to be Chinese to fit in here, do you?"

"Nope," Paul said.

"We should get the children home and in bed. I'm sure they will be up first thing in the morning," Mrs Deng said.

As the Yamamotos started the kids towards their car, Mr. Bell told Mrs Deng that he and Paul would drop off the presents for the children after they had gone to bed. Mr. and Mrs. Bell had purchased a present for each of the children to which she replied that quite a few other families had done likewise. Paul mentioned that he even bought a new pair of gloves for Mrs. Yamamoto. He had even bought a sweater for Mr. Yamamoto, just in case. Mrs. Deng replied that she had bought Mrs. Yamamoto something as well. The Yamamotos looked to have a very nice Christmas in store for them.

Later, when they were in bed, Connor leaned over and said, "I got an idea. You think the Jap kids at the orphanage would like to play with the Yamamoto kids?"

"That's not a bad idea. You ought to mention it to them on Sunday. Just remember to not call them Japs to their faces. It annoys them." Paul answered.

"Right. You know, maybe being drafted isn't such a bad thing for him. After all, it will be a lot easier for the kids to say that he is in the service rather than arrested by the FBI," Connor said.

"Go to sleep, Connor."

"Merry Christmas Paul."

"Merry Christmas, Connor."

_Historical Note:_

_Regarding Pastor Kessler's church. In 1941, there were Asian Roman Catholics as there still are. Some of the Asian refugees in my story are Roman Catholic from various countries who attend Kessler's little parish. The history of Christianity in Korea is interesting reading. Look it up.  
_

_A lot of Americans have a lot of misconceptions about the World War Two Internment Programs. the biggest misconception that most Americans have is that all Japanese Americans were interned. That is not true. About 111,000 out of a population of 270,000 were interned. All of those from Alaska, western Washington, western Oregon and California were interned. Less than 1,000 of the 160,000 Japanese Americans living in Hawaii were interned. Some internees were American citizens and some were Japanese citizens who were long term American residents. If you have one available, read the Asian American Encyclopedia on the subject_

_Another misconception is that Japanese were the only people interned. German Americans, German and Italian immigrants were also interned. The most famous camps that had Germans and Italians were Ellis Island and Crystal City Internment Camp. Google those names and also look them up on You Tube. The best number that I have found so far is that 60,000 German and German Americans were interned for part of the war and 11,000 for the duration of the war along with 3,000 Italians  
_

_Due to government fears of Nazi and Japanese spy rings, the US government got governments of several Latin American nations to send up some of their own citizens of Japanese, German and Italian ancestry for internment. Some of them were at Crystal City and Seagoville along with the American internees. Some had Spanish wives. I am in regular email contact with a lot of the German American children of the camps.  
_

_A Japanese American living on the East Coast would not automatically have been interned. Living in Metropolis, the Yamamotos could live out the war without being interned._

_Recently declassified information refers to Japanese Americans working in the Pacific Theater as translators. That's what I was thinking about with the drafting of Richard Yamamoto. _


End file.
